A Time for Change
by Sensara
Summary: It was bad enough that the government gave her the grumpiest Vulcan alive as an exchange partner. But Genie has to survive a year with Soval, and she's certain the Vulcans are hiding something. Why are the Vulcans acting strangely, and if love gets in the way of her quest for answers, will everything fall apart? Rated T for safety, some chapters may be M. 1st-person POV.
1. The Consulate

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, in any shape or form. **_

I looked up at the imposing facade of the Vulcan Consulate and sighed in frustration. This wasn't how things were supposed to turn out. This wasn't how I was supposed to be spending the next year. Why was it when I got a free spot in a cultural exchange program, suddenly the rug was ripped out from under me and I'm instead looking at a full year with the grumpiest Vulcan imaginable as my roommate?

To be fair, we wouldn't be sharing a bed or anything. Dad said we would simply be sharing a living room and a kitchen, and our bathrooms and bedrooms would be blessedly private. Not that Vulcans were notorious for their social skills, but I had hoped that when seen in their natural habitat, the stoic aliens my father dealt with on a daily basis might be a bit more friendly. They couldn't all be as unpleasant as Ambassador Soval.

I had received the summons a week ago; the government wanted me on a shuttle to the 40 Eridani-A star system by Saturday night at the latest, but then, three days later, I had received another notice canceling my shuttle ride and instead directing me to the Consulate in Sausalito. And to my knowledge, I was the only person in this program who had been chosen to stay on Earth. I wasn't even sure why I had been re-directed, and Dad was mum about it all. His face had contorted in confusion when I got the first notice, though I thought he'd be more happy for me. It wasn't every day a girl got to get off the planet.

By a mere technicality, I _was _stepping off of Earth soil into an acre of Vulcan territory, tucked into the outskirts of the city near San Francisco Bay. And I would be sharing that exquisite view of the ocean with one of the most mocked and hated Vulcans to ever set foot on this world.

Although this change confused me, it was a lot more convenient to stay on Earth and finish my Master's here in person, instead of online or through a Vulcan university. I had signed up for classes in the West Kir Institution of Communication, however, now I was free to complete my degree back at good old Berkeley. The scramble made me late to the game, but someone (I didn't know who; my adviser didn't even know) had twisted some arms and gotten me into every class I needed. Two more semesters and I would be done with college, off to face the real world.

My new roommate was standing just outside the front gate, his hands folded formally in front of him. He always had an austere, imposing look on his face when he appeared on camera, and he seemed even more austere today, stiff and cold, like the chilly breeze whispering through the trees that lined the avenue.

"Genevieve Forrest," he said in greeting. He looked me up and down with his cold, dark eyes, then reached for the suitcase I was dragging behind me.

"I thought my dad was going to meet us here." Dad had promised me he would help me move in, but apparently he was late, or something had come up at work. My guess was the latter.

"I told him not to come," the ambassador explained. "You only have two bags. He is otherwise occupied, and since my afternoon is free, I thought I would assist you in moving into your new home."

"Ok," I said slowly. I was too tired to argue with him, and he didn't look like he was the sort of man who would tolerate argument of any kind. "Is my dad still coming for dinner?"

"I am uncertain. That depends on how quickly his meeting at Starfleet Command is completed."

He then held out his hand for my backpack, but I shook my head. "I can carry it, ambassador."

Soval flared his nostrils, and I thought I saw his jaw clench, but he turned swiftly on his heel without another word, and strode into the Consulate courtyard. As it was rather cold outside, and looked like rain, no Vulcans were outside enjoying the weather. The halls too were silent, as if we had arrived in an abandoned building, and nothing was said between us as we stepped into the turbolift.

"I trust your journey to the Consulate was uneventful," he said stiffly. I nodded.

"Yeah, traffic wasn't too bad. The cab ride was quiet."

"I am...gratified you made it safely."

"Thank you," I murmured. "I'm glad I made it safely too."

He nodded stiffly and set his gaze forward, and I looked down and fiddled with some ribbon tied to the handle of my luggage. I was spared having to further the conversation when the doors opened, revealing a quiet hallway lined with intricate tapestries, and our joint quarters were down the hall to the right. Windows were sparse, meticulously placed to offer the finest views; I was sure I was seeing the work of a Vulcan perfectionist. Skyline dominated every window except for one at the other end of the hall from our quarters. That one looked towards the sea.

Our quarters were spacious, almost grandiose, with high ceilings, soft carpets, smooth expanses of purple walls and a better view of the sea than in the corridor. I noted he had placed curtains on every window, and it was only when I drew them back that I saw more of the ocean view.

"Why aren't these open? No one can see you up here."

He sighed. "Ocean vistas make me...make most Vulcans...nauseous."

"Ah," I said, letting the curtain fall back in place. "But you don't mind if I leave my curtains open? I usually change in the bathroom anyway."

He raised an eyebrow, and I wondered briefly if that was too much information. I blushed and looked back at the curtains, admiring the pattern, something akin to Celtic knots.

"It is your room," he replied quietly. "You may do what you wish with it...within reason."

"Of course, ambassador." I was eager to drop this conversation, lest the cantankerous old Vulcan in front of me start thinking about me changing my clothes. I didn't think he would truly appreciate that mental picture, and the thought of him thinking that made me rather uncomfortable.

He flared his nostrils and strode across the lush carpet in ten easy strides, but I wasn't sure if he was retreating to his room or showing me mine.

"Are you coming, Ms. Forrest?"

"Yeah," I said quickly, tearing myself out of my reverie. He was obviously showing me where I would be staying, and it wouldn't do to piss him off on my first day here. Goodness knew he was unpleasant enough without me getting in his way.

"This is your room," he said quietly as I passed him. His voice reverberated in my ear, and I could almost feel his breath in my hair. "The washroom through there." He gestured to a door on the left wall of the room to elucidate.

"Thank you," I said, offering him a wan smile, and he glared at me, handing me my bag.

"The rest of your things will arrive tomorrow. If you need anything, ask, and it will be provided for you."

"I'm fine." I was too busy looking around at the walls and staring at my ocean view to think too hard about the information he had given, besides, what I didn't have, I could go get in town. My motorcycle would be arriving from the shop tomorrow along with more of my things, and when it came to personal effects, I wasn't about to ask this old Vulcan for a handout.

The ambassador raised an eyebrow as I finally glanced back at him. "Very well. Then I will leave you be."

"Is my dad coming for dinner?" I asked the question just as he was closing the door, and he didn't meet my eye when he answered.

"I do not know, but I would presume not. He is likely still in his meetings."

"All right," I conceded, dropping the subject.

"I'll leave you to familiarize yourself with your room."

I didn't realize that sentence would be the last the ambassador would say to me until after dinner. He did not ask me any questions, nor attempt to make conversation. He was quiet, absorbed in his meal, and his presence felt like ice on my skin, his cold gaze never meeting mine. I wondered blandly if the ambassador thought his dinner was really that much more interesting than his new human roommate.

Though the old Vulcan didn't talk to me, I did feel as if he were watching me when I wasn't looking, which made strange, uncomfortable tingles run up and down my spine. I ate slower than I usually would (even though every instinct was screaming at me to eat faster so I could get away from the table and my somber dinner companion), and I took extra effort to make my bites small and dainty. My suspicions were confirmed when I stood and leaned over the table for the water pitcher, as it wasn't too far out of reach, and once I refilled my glass, I sat down and glanced up at him.

Our eyes locked, his pupils dark and deep, and I swallowed thickly and hastily took a sip of my water to distract myself. He took more time than I thought he would to look away, and I wondered morbidly if I had accidentally given him a good glance down my shirt. Damn it.

We sat in complete silence as he took a few more bites, and I noted a green flush over the tips of his ears. He hastily put down his fork as he noticed my staring, and he abruptly left the table without another word.

"Hey!" I called at his retreating back. "Are you ok? Did I do something to offend you?"

He barely turned to me and shook his head. "No," he muttered, turning away again.

"Ok...good to know...I'll clean up, then."

"Leave it," he said swiftly, his voice low and gravelly, almost a growl. "I will attend to it later."

And with a swish of his heavy robes, he left me alone in the dining area, the door to his room closing with a smart click. I sighed and leaned back in my chair, staring at his food (with what I was sure was a dumbfounded expression). So I get my own water, and perhaps accidentally flash him, and suddenly he can't stand to be in my presence?

I sighed and scraped the rest of the vegetarian casserole he had made (which I had to admit was rather delicious) into its original container, and I set the dishes in the sink. I was about to do the dishes myself, but I couldn't figure out how to keep the water running long enough to wash anything. I gave up, leaving that mess to the ambassador, and since it was probably best to learn about the facilities in my bathroom now instead of waiting until I was naked and half-awake, I retreated to my room and closed the door behind me.

For the next hour and a half, I taught myself how to use the bathroom facilities. The shower was the hardest to understand, and I still didn't really understand how to work it after an hour of staring at it, but I did not allow myself to succumb to temptation; after Soval's rude exit, I wasn't about to ask him for help.

The sink, unsurprisingly, was motion-activated and spurted only enough water to wash one's hands. The same technology existed in the kitchen sink, and maybe when I was here alone I could figure out how to wash dishes in that thing. As it was, I thought I had a good handle on it and the toilet and felt confident enough to go to bed with no worries. The only problem I was facing now was the temperature, which was far too hot for my tastes. I felt like I was in a warm kitchen, and the cool covers did little to soothe me.

With a sigh, I slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen area, which was empty. My host was lounging on the couch, reading a PADD; the dishes and the remains of our meal were cleaned up.

"I'm going to bed, ambassador, if it's all right with you."

He glanced up at me, blinking in apparent surprise, but I offered him a kind smile. It was best to at least try to be friendly, so he might start reciprocating soon. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning," I continued.

"Good night, Ms. Forrest."

I nodded and shut my door, and I flopped down onto the bed and willed my exhausted and overheated body into slumber.

…

It was 0300 when I woke again, forcing my heavy eyelids to open. My immediate instinct was to shove off my pajama bottoms, which made my legs feel like they were roasting. I followed that instinct and lay there, panting in just my underwear and cut-off t-shirt, and my mind focused on the tiny rivulets of sweat pooling at the hemline of my panties and in the crevices of my stomach.

I tossed and turned for what felt like an hour, though my clock told me it was only 0320. I sighed in frustration and threw the covers off my sweating body.

_Water_, my exhausted brain supplied. _Get a glass of water._

I had put almost all of my household items into storage when I had received the notice to come to the Consulate, so I didn't have any glasses. But I did know where to get one. The ambassador was probably asleep in his room and wouldn't wake for a few hours at least, so it wasn't as if he was going to see me in nothing but my underwear and a shirt.

I padded quietly out of my room, grateful that the lush carpet kept my footsteps muffled, and I slowly opened the cabinet doors in search of glasses. The room was dead silent except for the sound of soft breathing to my left, which I assumed came from the ambassador's room.

The motion-activated faucet filled my glass only a third of the way, and I waved my hand under it again to make it give up more liquid. Two-thirds was enough for now, and I gulped it down, letting the rivulets dribble down my chin. The coolness felt good on my neck and collarbone, and I shivered in delight as I felt myself begin to cool a bit. Another glass, and I was full, so I turned my attention towards wetting my skin.

A heavy, smoky scent made my nose wrinkle, and I paused, wondering what electrical appliance Soval might have left on for that burning smell to linger. Nothing was left on the counter but a basket of Vulcan vegetables, so I glanced around for a lamp or a sparking socket. I listened intently and only heard that soft breathing and my own heartbeat, nothing sizzling or sparking. I crouched down to look at a different eye level and still found nothing, and as I contemplated finding the lightswitch, I noticed something move in the dark.

My heart jumped into my throat, and I breathed in sharply in surprise. My tongue was now stinging in pain, and I bit back tears as I peered through the darkness.

The figure moved again, and in the pale light coming in from the distant streetlamps, I noted a plume of smoke rising from where the shadow sat on the ground, and glowing embers contained in some sort of bowl or lamp. Was this some quiet assassin sent to start a fire, and kill Soval? I gripped my water glass like a projectile, ready to throw the thing if necessary. I prepared myself to scream, and hopefully Soval had some sort of weapon lying around, or fighting skills of some sort to defend me.

I gathered my nerve. "Who are you?" I demanded.

"You know who I am, Ms. Forrest," he said blandly, and I breathed out in relief as I realized it was none other than Ambassador Soval.

"Damn it, ambassador, don't _do_ that to me!" I growled, setting the water glass aside. "I thought you were some crazy assassin or something..."

"I was meditating, until you disturbed me."

"Sorry about that, but I'm roasting. I needed some water."

"I see," he rumbled, standing. He slowly approached me, and though I couldn't see his face, I suddenly remembered what I was wearing and crossed my arms.

"Your night vision must be lacking if you did not see me sitting in plain sight." He set my water glass in the sink. "My vision, however, is not nearly insufficient as yours. Did you not think I would see you?"

I opened my mouth to reply, then shut it and lifted my chin. "I am very sorry for disturbing you, but I honestly thought you were asleep. It's 0300!"

"I have been meditating since you went to bed. I do not require as much rest as you humans."

"Well, that's good to know."

Several seconds of silence passed in the darkness, and as my eyes slowly adjusted to the distant lights, I could almost see his eyes narrowing.

"Would you care to explain why you are dressed so provocatively?"

I looked down at myself and felt my face flush with heat. "Oh...um...like I said, I thought you would be asleep, and it wasn't as if you were going to see me like this...in my head...I'm tired and hot and not at my best right now, ambassador. Could you please just...nevermind."

He shook his head and backed away. "Perhaps it would be best if we both returned to our rooms. In the morning, I will see about installing a cooler unit in your room."

"Thank you," I whispered, and he practically fled the scene. I watched him go, blushing madly, but I closed my eyes and breathed in and out, slowing my heart rate. My mind was too tired to worry about his reaction, or how our relationship had gotten off to such an awkward start, and I splashed water on my arms, legs, neck, chest and stomach. Time to call it a night (technically morning) and salvage what little darkness I could. Tomorrow was not going to be a good day.


	2. Timok

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to isfoss86, Laura2468, bina W, CeliaSingsSongs and LadyGAGA3024 for reviewing!**_

My prediction became painfully true when I stumbled out of bed later that morning, my body exhausted, my eyes heavily lidded, ready to close at a moment's notice. I thought, in my tired, decaffeinated state, that it would be an excellent idea to simply fall asleep in the shower for another hour. I stripped off my sweat-soaked cut-off top and my similarly soiled panties and threw them in my laundry basket, and as I stood there in the nude, staring blankly at the controls, I remembered that I hadn't quite figured out how to work the shower.

I closed my eyes, my already stressed and overheated state crumbling as my mood soured, and then I squeezed my eyes shut and summoned the courage to do what needed to be done.

The least I could do was put on a towel, so I wrapped one around myself and took a deep breath.

"Ambassador!" I yelled, leaning wearily against the shower wall.

I heard his hurried footsteps, and I opened my bleary eyes to see his hazel irises glimmering with ire. To my frustration and ultimate shame, my eyes filled with tears, and I pointed wordlessly to the shower.

"Can't get this damn thing to work," I murmured, leaning my head back against the wall. I willed myself not to cry as I felt him come closer, but I forced myself to watch as he turned a dial and pressed a square silver button on the end of the control panel.

Waves of warmth washed over me as the sonics hummed to life, and he quickly showed me how to turn them off when I was done.

"I will leave you to it," he said stiffly, and I noted he was avoiding my gaze, or looking anywhere near me. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, and I gripped the towel with a tighter fist.

"Thank you, ambassador," I croaked, still fighting tears of frustration. _Get a hold of yourself, Forrest_. "Sorry about bothering you."

"I told you when you arrived: if you need anything, ask. I would prefer you ask when you are properly dressed," he groused, then turned on his heel and marched out of my bathroom.

The sonic shower did little to relieve my frustrations, but I swallowed down my shame and made the shower a quick one, remembering that Soval had promised me a unit to cool my room, to be installed at some point today.

I walked out of my room, fully (and modestly) dressed this time, and he glanced up at my arrival and took in my outfit with cold approval.

"When are they going to install that unit?" I asked, then paused. "Good morning, and thank you again for helping me."

He nodded stiffly. "This afternoon. Your breakfast is on the table."

I opened my mouth to reply, then offered him a smile. "Thank you, ambassador. That was very considerate of you."

Although I thought he would accept this compliment with his usual disdain, for a moment, I thought I saw something darken in his eyes. He stared at me, silent and stony, then gave me the nod I expected.

"I should inform you that I am...unused to having a female fix my meals, and I am not inclined to change my routine regarding cooking. I will prepare our meals, Ms. Forrest, though you are welcome to use the cooler unit for whatever foodstuffs you wish. I know, as a human, you require a higher caloric intake than Vulcans. I will do my best to see to your needs."

My previous anger with him dissipated. "I appreciate that, ambassador. But are you sure? I know you don't eat meat, and I make some killer baked goods!"

He frowned in apparent confusion. "Do you put poison in them?"

Now it was my turn to be confused, until I realized what I had said. I laughed. "No, no, no, it's an expression! It means they're really good, to die for, if you will..."

"That is illogical," he groused.

I snickered. "You haven't tried my peanut butter pie. Anyway...alright, so you won't let me in your kitchen. Can I at least do dishes? Laundry? Something?"

He shook his head. "No, Ms. Forrest."

"But I'm a guest in your home, and on Earth, guests are expected to do something to contribute towards their host's household."

"You are not a guest, Ms. Forrest, you live here. This is your home." I thought for a wild moment that his gaze softened, but his eyes were just as cold as ever. I must have been imagining things. "I do not want you to do anything like that around here, not at this time. Focus on your studies, and I will be satisfied."

"Suit yourself," I said with a sigh, sitting down to my breakfast. "But still...there are two people living in your house now, and you're going to do _all _the cooking and cleaning?"

He shook his head. "I have a housekeeper. He is new, but I am confident in his abilities."

I shrugged. "Works for me."

I dug into the breakfast he had provided and did not bother hiding my enthusiasm. So far, his track record with cooking was flawless, and I told him so. He raised an eyebrow and kept reading his PADD, and my mood slowly began to sour. Though I did see a flush of green touch the tips of his ears, so maybe he just wasn't used to compliments.

The rest of the morning was spent in silence, with the ambassador reading his PADD so intently I thought his eyes might pop out of his head. He seemed to make it a point not to look at me, and yet, when I rose from my place on the couch and got myself some water, I could feel the hairs on the back of my head rise; his eyes were following me, and I whipped around to look at him.

His eyes were on his PADD.

I frowned in confusion and sat back down, getting back to work, and still, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching me. But every time I looked up to try and catch him in the act, his eyes were fixed on his PADD.

I could only sigh.

…

After lunch, the day descended into a warm, sleepy afternoon, dragging me down with it. I had to keep moving around on the couch and sitting up straighter, but after my tenth yawn, I stood and stretched my arms above my head.

The ambassador was still focused on what I presumed was his work, and I retreated to my still-too-hot bedroom to change my clothes. He had ignored me since breakfast, but I apparently got his attention when I strolled out in exercise clothes and my good running shoes.

"Where are you going?" he asked coldly, perhaps sensing my urge to get out of this too-warm suite. I stifled another yawn and loaded up my running pack.

"Out for a while," I replied. "I'm going for a run. I'll be back in an hour, hour and a half tops."

His expression twisted from bemusement to ire, and I raised an eyebrow at him. I was still in the post-lunch lull and was too tired to argue, but I waited for him to speak his piece.

"I would rather you stay inside," he rumbled, his eyes glazed in...worry? I put my hands on my hips.

"Don't worry about me, ambassador. I'll be fine. The area around the Consulate is very safe. I'll be around the block a few times, and then I'll be back. All right?"

He opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but I turned back to my pack when I heard a sharp knock at the door. Soval rushed to get it, and I assumed it was either the maintenance crew here for the cooler unit, or some aide giving my new roommate a report or here to discuss Vulcan business. Either way, it was time for me to bail and get out of the ambassador's hair.

Soval was the only Vulcan I had ever been around for more than a few minutes, but the maintenance crew, composed of three Vulcan men well into their 40's (or so it looked to me; I was very bad at estimating Vulcan ages), would be here for quite a while, it seemed. Two had warm brown eyes like the ambassador, and the other gazed intently at me with bright blue irises. All of them had streaks of gray in their hair, and they were tall, taller than my dad. I had the oddest sensation that they were looming over me, and to my surprise, Soval's warm fingers wrapped around my arm and he steered me to the door.

"You were going to go run, Ms. Forrest?" he said firmly, blocking my view of the maintenance men. They all seemed to be trying to get a good look at me, and I stared at the ambassador in utter confusion.

"Yes," I said finally, coming to my senses. "Yeah, it's best to get out of your way."

"That is very logical," he conceded. "I will walk you to the door while they begin in your room."

He pulled me away from the door before I could protest or get a better look at these men, and his grip on my arm was almost painful. Thankfully, he lessened it as we stepped into a turbolift, and perhaps it was the sight of the empty, silent lobby that finally loosened his grip.

"Just around the block, you said?" he murmured, gently prodding me towards the door.

"A few times, yeah. I like to run at least three miles a week, five if I can make the time. I might stop for some coffee on the way back."

"Please do so," he insisted, opening the door for me. The front courtyard was just as empty as the lobby even though it was turning into a nice day outside. It was cool and clear, and the sun beat down in warm waves as he pressed insistently on my lower back.

"Um...ambassador?"

"Yes, Ms. Forrest?" He didn't seem to be concentrating on me, but rather was staring over his shoulder at the imposing facade of his Consulate, as if he feared we were being followed.

"How do I get back in?"

"The guards know you," he said swiftly, nearly pushing me out the rust-colored, wrought-iron gates. "They will let you back in."

I stared incredulously at him as he threw another glance over his shoulder, and I put my hands back on my hips. "Ambassador, what on Earth was all that about?"

His gaze was like fire as he turned back to me. "You were going to run, Ms. Forrest. I suggest you do so."

"You were totally against this five minutes ago, but the second the maintenance guys show up, you're practically shoving me out the door? I don't get it."

"Ms. Forrest, your run."

I stomped my foot in my anger and took a step towards him, making him raise his chin. "What. The. _Hell_? I don't understand you, ambassador...you are just..."

I growled and threw up my arms in frustration, and I could feel his eyes boring into my back as I walked several paces along the outer courtyard wall, then started stretching.

He frowned at me as I put my hands up against the wall to stretch my legs, but I simply narrowed my eyes again and took off at a sprint as soon as I was done with my stretches.

After rounding the corner of the block, I slowed, my heart pounding from exertion; I couldn't make heads or tails of Soval's behavior towards those men. They didn't look dangerous. Hell, they looked way more friendly than Soval did. One minute, the man pays me as much heed as he does his furniture, and the next, he's acting as if he can't stand the thought of me being in the presence of other Vulcans.

My mind turned the issue over in my head, and although several theories presented themselves, the most rational was that the ambassador was afraid the maintenance men would either hurt me or charm me so much I would leave his presence, although I didn't see how I could do that considering the governments of both Vulcan and Earth had demanded that I reside with Soval. His behavior this morning, while confusing and erratic, suggested that he found the thought of me leaving unpleasant, even though he had made no previous indication during our very limited interactions that he found my presence compelling. It was so odd to be ignored, then hogged when anyone else came into the picture. I felt as if I were a toy that Soval only wanted to play with when other Vulcans showed interest in it.

And my father had already disillusioned me of the notion that Vulcans were antisocial creatures (after he had been disillusioned of that same notion from Ambassador Soval himself). I found the thought that the other Vulcans would hurt me to be quite ludicrous, after all, they had looked as if they were eager to socialize. This further ingrained my personal theory about my toy status, and it made me confused more than anything. Soval was infamous for his unpleasant and cantankerous behavior towards humans; most everyone, my father being a rare exception, found him an absolute pain to work with or even talk to, and yet, when I thought about it, that notion made me sad. Perhaps Soval was as bad at making friends and being pleasant as his reputation suggested, and the one person who lived with him, who at least offered her company, might be charmed away by a member of his staff at any point...

But then, this was all speculation and theory. I had no solid proof of my toy status, or that Soval felt threatened by the other males' presence, or that he was even grateful for my company.

My previous frustration with him had transmuted into a pesky sort of confusion, and it seemed I couldn't turn off my brain from wandering back to my questions. And more questions joined them on my third trip around the block: why was I of all people chosen for this exchange program? One would think volunteering would be a prerequisite for an all-expenses-paid trip to Vulcan, and some sort of credentials to match. After all, being hired for a job at the Earth Embassy in Shi'Kahr was no easy feat. Applicants had to represent the best that this planet had to offer, and yet they were sending me, a female of average intelligence and an incomplete degree, to Vulcan to represent my people, and somehow I had been transferred here. And in regards to either situation, I was still at a loss for answers.

Pleasantly sweaty and exhausted, and with my heart hammering in my chest, I lazily saluted the guards at the gate as they let me back in, and I strolled across the now-shaded courtyard with heavy breaths. I hurried across the flagstones to the entrance, as the loss of the late-summer sun had made Sausalito chillier than I expected, and quickly slipped into the lobby. There was still no sign of anyone, and I started to wonder if perhaps the maintenance crew, Soval and I were the only people who lived here.

However, I discovered (to my relief) that this particular theory was wrong: there was at least one other Vulcan living in the Consulate, and he was visiting with Soval when I returned to our quarters.

Wrinkles lined his aged face, his bright blue eyes peering curiously at me behind a thick frame of dusty silver hair. He looked old enough to be my great-grandfather, and strangely, he looked pleased to see me.

"This must be the infamous Genevieve Forrest I've heard about," he said, slowly rising to his feet and holding out his hand for me to shake. No Vulcan had ever extended that gesture to me or any human I knew, so in heartfelt thanks I grasped his hand with both of mine and gave him the warmest handshake I could muster. Though his face remained neutral, his eyes twinkled with appreciation, and I couldn't help but let a wide, welcoming grin touch my face.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," I said kindly, leaning towards him as a gesture of interest. "And you are?"

"Ms. Forrest, this is Osu Timok. He was Solkar's aide before my time, and has trained many of my aides since."

"The girl will be residing with you for a year, and you can't even bring yourself to call her by her first name?" the Vulcan named Osu Timok said to Soval, as if chiding him. I couldn't believe my ears, nor could I imagine anyone talking to Soval in such a tone. The man was a respected (albeit grudgingly respected) ambassador appointed by the Vulcan High Council and the Vulcan High Command, and this man old enough to be my great-grandfather was telling him off as if he were a high school boy coming in past his curfew.

"I wouldn't want to waste time with titles," the old man continued. "You may call me Timok, little one."

He spoke with a crisp accent, almost as if he hailed from Great Britain or one of her former territories, and I found the sound of it soothing. I smiled graciously, then raised my eyebrows.

"You're sure about that? I wouldn't want to be disrespectful."

"Dear girl, if I had wanted titles to slow down our conversation, I would have insisted that you use them. I do not wish that. My name is Timok, so address me as such."

"Yes, sir!" I exclaimed with a grin, saluting him. "Mr. Timok, I have a feeling you and I will get along swimmingly."

His eyes grew warm again. "Of course we will, child. Soval has told me of all the...misunderstandings that have plagued the two of you since your arrival."

"Yes, it has been an interesting 24 hours." I caught the ambassador's gaze and was surprised to see how dark and intense his eyes were. His nostrils were flared, perhaps in irritation, but he was breathing deeply, inhaling the air around us, sharply contrasting my labored breathes. I noted also that he had been on the couch when I first came in, and now he was at Timok's shoulder, staring intently at me with an unreadable expression.

Timok noticed this and gently looped his arm with mine, steering me once again towards the door. "Come have tea with an old man and tell me your stories from your perspective," he suggested out of the blue, and I frowned.

"I'm starting to think there's an airborne poison in these rooms you're not telling me about," I said as the door closed, casting one last look at Soval. "That or he can't stand the stench of my sweat."

"It is not a stench, dear girl, but I would not linger near him after vigorous exercise."

"Because I smell bad," I said with a shrug. "I was going to take a shower, you know. I'm not offending you, am I?"

"No, dear girl, it would take more than your amplified scent to offend me. Forgive me for not taking you away sooner. I should have intercepted you as soon as you came in the door."

"I don't understand," I muttered, but my protests were brushed aside as we passed a male Vulcan. He was not on the maintenance team, as his eyes were more golden than brown, and his gaze made me shiver as he caught my eye. Timok said something in Vulcan to the man as we passed closer, and the man bowed his head in respect. I looked back at him, offering him a polite smile and a nod, and I could feel him watching me until we rounded the corner.

"For the last 8 hours, I feel like everyone's been staring at me." We entered his quarters, which were smaller than the ones I shared with Soval, but were nonetheless cozy and comfortable. He bustled about making tea, staunchly refusing my help on the account that I was his guest, and soon we were both sipping on a Vulcan blend I'd never tried. It was spicy and sweet, and the sharpness of it made my tongue tingle.

"Vulcans may be reserved, but we appreciate beauty."

I could feel my face flush, and I vigorously shook my head. "I guess no human's been in the Consulate for an extended amount of time, have they?"

"We've had human employees before, but they have been...relieved of duty."

I frowned. "Why?"

Timok sighed and poured himself more tea. "It was necessary...as you've experienced, you will be stared at during your stay here...unless Soval does something about it."

My next sip of tea went down too quickly, and I coughed to clear my windpipe. "No offense to the ambassador, but I doubt that'll happen soon."

He shrugged. "Be prepared for any outcome, Genie Forrest. Vulcans can be unpredictable creatures, especially in such times as these."

"What time would that be?"

The old man shook his head, his expression sad, almost devastated. "I hope one day I have the courage to tell you all you must know. But not today. Tell me of your trials, child, and let me impart some of my own advice."

I thought about protesting, but then, I wanted the advice more than I wanted to pester. "Then we'll drop the subject for now. So it all started when my room was too hot..."


	3. Tos

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Laura 2468, CeliaSingsSongs, dinopoodle, xxxkris44, Lll, bina W, Icybay611, isfoss86, and guest for reviewing!**_

I wasn't sure how much more depressing this meal could get.

Ambassador Tos never struck me as a very cheerful person, but when he had taken a seat at the table, I had expected a second Soval, and had braced myself accordingly. For the past two weeks of my stay, Soval only deigned to open his mouth to goad me into an argument (I was starting to think he did this out of boredom or possibly a sick sense of enjoyment) or to keep tabs on me. I had given up trying to understand his motives last week and was in a constant state of irritation with the man. And I thought I would feel the same way about Tos. My dad had never liked him, but as we consumed our meal, I wasn't sure what to think of the younger diplomat quietly scooting his food around his plate. He hardly took three bites the entire time, and made no move to intervene in Soval's conversation (argument) with me. Tonight, it was over sports.

"...and in all candor, the dangers of injury from this game of football are incredibly high, however, considering it is a fight to the death, that does not surprise me." The ambassador fixed me with an arrogant stare, and I glared at him.

"Now who on God's green Earth told you football was a fight to the death?"

"Anthropological study groups have concluded-"

"Study groups, my hat! That is the most idiotic, unscientific, _illogical _conclusion to ever come out of your mouth, ambassador!"

His nostrils widened as he took in a deep breath through his nose, and I grinned, somehow knowing I had gotten to him. I was quickly learning that finding weak spots in his logic was the only way to beat him, which was incredibly difficult, and not something I had managed to do yet. But tonight, I might just get the upper hand. I pressed my case.

"Have you ever watcheda football game, ambassador?" I asked quietly, almost sweetly, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

"It is a barbaric sport," he said gruffly, taking a long sip of his tea. "I do not contaminate my vision with such base acts."

"If you had ever _watched _a game before, you would know that no one, to my knowledge, has ever died during a match. Injuries happen a lot, sure, but no deaths. The point of the game is to run the ball to the opposite end of the field without being tackled first. It's...visceral, but not deadly. I'll admit, personally, that I wouldn't play anything more than tag football even if you paid me, but to think that the most observant, scientific minds that Vulcan sent to monitor our species would come to the _ludicrous _conclusion-"

"You've made your point, Ms. Forrest," he said testily, and I grinned wickedly at him over my water glass, relishing this one bit of victory.

"Please do not...grin at me like that," the ambassador continued, his eyes growing dark. I frowned.

"Then you must forgive me. It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable." I coughed to quell the urge to smile again, and then I turned my attention to Tos, remembering that the younger ambassador didn't look very happy to be here, even by Vulcan standards.

"You need to stop chattering over there, Tos." He fixed his muddy brown gaze on me, looking absolutely miserable, and slightly annoyed at my teasing.

He said nothing for a moment, then muttered quietly that I was being highly illogical.

"It's a backwards way of wondering aloud why you're not joining the conversation. Do you have any opinions to add about the game of football?"

"No," he said simply, then concentrated on his plate, chopping the pile of roots in the middle into tinier and tinier pieces, but never putting the miniscule cuts of vegetable into his mouth.

"Not hungry tonight?" I muttered, watching his fork with mixed confusion and fascination.

Tos sighed. "I have never been fond of _yakur _root despite its popularity on our planet. And no, T'Sai, I am not very hungry."

Soval put down his fork. "I have known you for ten years, cooked for you and with you on several occasions, and you are only now telling me you do not like _yakur_?"

The younger diplomat sighed heavily. "It did not matter, and still does not matter. I am simply not hungry. If you'll excuse me, I believe I will retire to my quarters."

I glanced at Soval, wondering silently if Tos might be sick. I wasn't sure about Vulcans, but I did know that when I got sick, I usually didn't feel up to eating much before the illness hit me full force. I bid Tos good night, and Soval stood.

"Do you have the report on recent tariffs on Vulcan goods?" the elder Vulcan asked, his tone less harsh than the way he spoke to me during our arguments. Perhaps he was seeing what I was seeing and taking pity on a potentially sick subordinate.

"No, not yet," the younger man said, still sighing. Did he sigh with every sentence? Where was the trademark Vulcan arrogance I had come to expect from men like Soval?

"Ever since M'Rel..." He trailed off. "Now that she is...gone...it has not been easy doing everything she did for me."

I wondered quietly where M'Rel had gone off to, and the way Tos phrased it, a part of my brain suggested she might be dead. But why would she die?

I looked at Soval and found him glaring at his subordinate, almost as if he wanted to shout at him, and the burning glare died when he saw I was watching him. He quickly dismissed Tos and swept away his plate, then silently returned to the table, avoiding my gaze.

"How old is M'Rel?" I asked after five minutes of silence.

"That is none of your concern," he snapped. I stared at him, then raised my hands in silent retreat.

"Ok," I whispered. "Sorry I asked."

Another five minutes of silence passed. "M'Rel's absence is classified information. It would be against Vulcan policy-"

"You don't have to explain," I said coldly. "Sorry I asked. Let's move on."

I got up from the table and grabbed my empty water glass and plate, and I hastily deposited them in the sink and retreated to the couch. I refused to look at him as he finished his dinner, staring instead at my PADD as if the meaning of life were inscribed on it.

"Your tone of voice suggests you are angry with me."

I didn't let my gaze leave the PADD screen, and I offered him no answer. Let's see how the old Vulcan liked being ignored for once. I scrolled through the news, and my messages, and even started up a conversation with my friend Kal out of boredom and frustration, all the while letting Soval stew in the corner.

Two days later, and I still wasn't talking to him, other than the obligatory "good morning" and "good night", and to thank him for fixing my food. My brain was angry at him, but my taste buds begged to differ.

"Is this what you humans call the 'silent treatment'?" He was silently working on dishes, and I was resolutely cleaning the table even though he had protested. It felt good to do something for once, especially now, since he didn't want me to clean for him. It was our shared space, and God damn it, I was going to do my share of work in these quarters.

"No," I said, barely biting back my anger, clipping my words into short bursts of rage despite my best efforts. "This is 'Ambassador Soval doesn't want to talk to me unless it's to argue about some dumb minutia that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, and I am indulging him.'"

He had no reply.

I ran ten miles that week, and thankfully for my tired calves, by the first Friday of September we were back to sparring over the most petty, meaningless subjects he could come up with.

"How do you stand that man? Furthermore, how do _I _stand him? If I'm not part of the décor, I'm being belittled and besmirched. It's frustrating."

Timok sighed and handed me a steaming mug of tea. "I do not know what to tell you, child," he replied, his voice heavy, as if he were burdened. Even his shoulders were slumped as he said those words. "All I know is that Soval is a lonely man...and he has made it his mission to protect you."

"_Protect_ me?" I rose my voice so I was nearly shouting. "First of all, I don't _need _his protection, and secondly, since when did _protection _include taking jabs at everything humanity has ever done?"

"He is an ambassador, and he is Vulcan...he thrives on debate, Genevieve."

"This isn't debate. It's petty bullshh-" I cut myself off and sighed. "Why? Why bother?"

"To keep his negotiating tactics honed, so as to better serve his people when the need arises. You are available, and you have fallen into the trap laid out for you. Although the ambassador does not seek to anger you, you take these arguments to heart. Recognize them for what they are, little one...perhaps you will learn to enjoy arguing with him."

"I don't like drama," I insisted, folding my arms tightly across my chest. "And he's driving me to my wit's end! You still haven't told me how you stand him."

"The ambassador does not argue with me. I am as old as he and know the purpose of the exercise, and I tire quickly of his tricks. You, on the other hand, are young...and if you do not mind me saying so, you do have a certain...appeal about you when you are angry. Something in your eyes, perhaps..."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Ok, Gramps, what the hell are you implying?"

"Genevieve, surely by now you know you are beautiful?"

"I'm nothing a Vulcan would want."

Timok sighed. "I have noted that you human females tend to downplay your assets and abilities...why is that?"

"_That_ is a topic for another day. I'm nothing special, not to him. What's your point?"

"You are asking me why Soval finds it stimulating to argue with you?"

"_Yes_." Why didn't he understand? "Obviously! I'm not trying to get some roundabout answer, I just don't get what I did to make him so irritated with me!"

"Child, if he were irritated with you, he would not bother arguing with you."

"Yeah, why bother arguing with a piece of furniture?"

I stared down into my now-cold tea, glaring at it as if it were the cause of all my grief. Then I sighed and set it down.

"I know this isn't your fault, Timok, I'm sorry for raising my voice. I just don't understand why he can't at least _try _to be nice to me."

"I do not know if he knows _how _to try. It has been so long for him, to have a female presence in such close quarters with him...he may have, what is the phrase, lost his touch?"

I snorted into my tea. "You've got that right...wait, that implies that he has some sort of touch with women. Don't tell me you're implying such a thing!" I grinned at him, my foul mood dissipating.

"He can be very charming when he wants to be, Genevieve. He is an ambassador. Having some talent and charm is an integral part of his job."

His eyes were sparkling with amusement in response to my incredulity, but I sipped my cold tea and sighed.

"So what do I do?"

Timok looked pensive. "I fear the day when you overcome your anger with the ambassador and realize that what I have told you is true. Soval is lonely. Despite his charm, he does not know how to respond to being in such close quarters with you. I fear for you when you see how alone he really is."

I shook my head at him. "I'd like to think I'm a nice person, but–"

He cut me off with a wave of his hand. "I do not mean to boast, but I am a better judge of character than you are, my dear little one. I have been for a long time, and I have used it to my advantage. You have a kind heart, a gentle soul. No doubt the ambassador has told you not to spend time alone with any Vulcan man besides him and myself?"

"Yes, and if he thinks he can tell me who I can spend time with–"

"Genevieve, please obey that rule. We live in dark times, and Vulcan men are greedy when they set their eyes on something they want. He gave you that warning to protect you, because you do not understand what is at stake."

I shook my head, then thought of something. "Soval isn't married or anything, is he?"

"No, Genevieve, I thought you knew that."

"Well, lonely and unmarried aren't exactly interchangeable. Goodness knows I don't want to deal with the wrath of a Vulcan woman in all this along with his nonsense."

"You would have never been able to live in his home if he were married. That is...immoral, and against our precepts."

I contemplated his words. "You still haven't told me what to do about the ambassador. I'd love to hear more about these dark times we're supposedly living in, but somehow I know you won't divulge any 'classified information'."

"Yes, it is classified, otherwise I would tell you everything," he said with a sigh. "Find it in your dear human heart to forgive the foolishness of an old, jaded, lonely man. I do not want that kind heart of yours to be twisted by resentment. Do not give in to resentment. If you find yourself slipping, come to me, and we will dispel it together. And do not hesitate to come to me for any other reason."

I couldn't help but lean forward and wrap my arms around his slender frame; in the month I had known him, he had shown himself to be much more open to touch than any Vulcan I knew. He lightly kissed my forehead.

"I fear the days ahead of us, Genie, my dear," he murmured, pulling away. "But you give me hope."

…

"So let me get this straight..."

Kalvin Leanne Wexler, nicknamed Kal, sat slouched in her chair across the cafe table from me, staring at me with her dark, exotic, incredulous eyes. Her full lips were turned upward in a smirk as she considered my situation, and I could see that I hadn't garnered her pity so much as her amusement. She raised a delicate, neatly trimmed eyebrow at me and leaned forward, lowering her voice.

"The government has basically handed you a year's free room and board, and all you have to do is put up with an ornery roommate?"

I blinked. "Well, when you put it like that...I didn't exactly have much choice. Refusing to go would be considered delinquency, and I don't want to go to prison. And really, it isn't that bad, except for that ornery roommate. I don't know what to do about him. I don't know how to make him stop insulting me and maybe have a normal conversation every once and a while. That'd be a nice change!"

"But the fact remains that you aren't paying for this."

I slumped in my chair, defeated. "No, I'm not paying for this."

"He doesn't have really loud sex at three in the morning, does he?"

I nearly spit out my sip of coffee. "No!"

"No loud music?"

"No. But he's either ignoring me or dictating _his_ thesis to me: 'All the Ways Humanity is Inferior to Vulcans'. It gets old."

"Well, there is that," she conceded, and I nodded once to confirm that I did in fact have a good point. "But it's not like you have to hang out with him all the time."

"Well, if he were nicer to me, I'd hang out a lot more! I eat breakfast and dinner with him...and I hate to admit it, but he really does have a flair for cooking. You should try his vegetarian casserole – it is to die for!"

Kal smirked in her victory, and I put my head in my hands with a groan. She didn't even have to tell me that my arguments looked weak now, but that didn't excuse the fact that Ambassador Soval was the most insufferable Vulcan in the Consulate.

"And what makes it worse," I continued, on the offensive again, "is that not all the Vulcans are like this. I've met some friendlier guys in that Consulate, but he hogs me like he's a two-year-old with a brand-new toy! Every single time the maintenance crew comes by, or the housekeeper, or some low-level aide with a report, he shoves me out the door! Like he can't stand the thought of me embarrassing him in front of his staff."

"Well, maybe he didn't ask for this either," she mused, but I shook my head.

"No...I was supposed to be on Vulcan by now, but the order went through for me to be transferred to the Consulate. He had to have at least _approved _that order, and if he didn't want me in his quarters, why am I living with him? Of all the Vulcans I could have resided with, he makes me live with _him_!"

"Well, what do you think his motivations are? You've lived with him for a month. I'm just now hearing about this."

"You knew I was moving to the Consulate," I protested, and she quietly agreed.

"Anyway, I'm just now hearing that you're miserable."

I sighed. "I'm not...miserable...he irritates the crap out of me, but he's not...I don't know. I'm not miserable...just not satisfied, I guess. Soval is a tough nut to crack."

"Then make it your mission to crack him," Kal suggested, and I grinned at her. "It'll at least keep you occupied for the next 11 months."

"Yeah, let's play Crack the Ambassador. Let's hope that doesn't get me evicted from the Consulate."

She laughed at me and shook her head, her slender thumb rubbing the handle of her coffee mug. The movement transfixed me for a moment, and for a brief second, I considered the firm stance Soval had taken against my friends a few days after I arrived. He refused to let me bring my female friends to the Consulate, giving me some lame excuse about them 'distracting his staff', but as I watched Kal laugh, I figured even a cold-hearted Vulcan would be tempted to let himself be distracted by such a beauty as her. Kal was never lacking in male attention, not that I envied her that much, but somehow she never seemed to have a boyfriend. Perhaps I was simply misjudging her (I had always taken her for the girlish, fairy-tale-princess type), or perhaps the men of Earth were truly as underwhelming to her as they were to me.

Our conversation turned to other matters, but I found my thoughts drifting away, back across the Bridge to the spacious, spartan quarters that the ambassador and I shared. I wondered what he was doing while I was out, if he was reading, or meditating, or getting a headache as he pondered how to deal with me. And I surprised myself when I found my heart hoping he wasn't getting a headache, that his day was going well without me there. It was never my intention to be cruel to him, but something had to be done about his behavior. The first threads of a plan started forming in my head, and I smiled dreamily out the window, my thoughts comfort against the harsh reality waiting for me back at my new home.


	4. V'tosh ka'tur

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Laura 2468, CeliaSingsSongs, isfoss86, LadyGAGA3024, T'Sara and guest for reviewing!**_

"Ms. Forrest, the _V'tosh ka'tur _are dangerous."

I glared at him, as was my habit nowadays, and seethed as I gathered my wits and prepared a counterattack against him. My plan to crack him wasn't going nearly as well as I'd hoped, as I was finding it really hard to be nice to him when he got like this. He made his points as if dismissing a child, though I did note, with a rush of pleasure, that a hint of worry sparked in his eyes as I stared unwaveringly at him. He blinked, and his expression faltered.

"Genevieve?" he said gently. That almost broke me out of my anger, but it wasn't enough.

"So by your logic, I'm dangerous, because I express my emotions like these _V'tosh ka'tur_ do."

"You are not dangerous," he said calmly. "You do not have my strength or agility or fighting prowess. But a Vulcan who cannot control his emotions, who is endangering others for his own selfish purposes-"

"In what way are his emotions dangerous?" I probed, leaning back away from him.

"Genevieve," he said, his voice lowering an octave. I narrowed my eyes further. "You do not understand...Vulcan emotions are erratic and unpredictable. Would you let a madman out into the streets just so he can express _his _emotions?"

I huffed in irritation. "What evidence do you have, _definitive_ evidence, that these people are like unto madmen? Have you observed them over an extended period of time? Is your medical community in agreement with your assertions? Or are you simply giving me trite rhetoric based on nothing more than your fear of losing control of your own population?"

He blinked, staring at me in what looked like confusion. "Vulcans do not feel fear."

"Oh yes you do. You fear giving up control. You know...for a planet that shoves the idea of tolerance down everyone else's throat, you do seem to have a very tight reign on your own society. It's really easy to preach tolerance when everyone on your world is exactly the same, but the minute someone rejects your precious teachings and decides to try something new, you proclaim them mad, illogical, a menace to society. Do you feel the same way about humans? Are we madmen too? Because it sure as hell sounds like that."

I was panting by the end of that rant, and Soval raised an eyebrow and flared his nostrils. "Humans are not mad, Genevieve...you humans have the uncanny ability to...reign in your more violent urges. _V'tosh ka'tur _have rejected the very means that keeps us from killing each other. To let go of one's control is to invite in dark thoughts, violent thoughts. That is not safe for society."

"But what about better emotions? Joy, love, compassion? Don't these _V'tosh ka'tur _have the ability to feel those too?"

"No," he said quietly. "Vulcans, by some unfortunate turn of events, are not nearly as compassionate as you humans. Most of us lack the ability to spontaneous selflessness that inspires humans to care for one another without expecting something in return...we are capable of love, tightly controlled and suppressed, but compassion seems beyond the reach of most."

"How do you know there aren't compassionate Vulcans trying the _V'tosh ka'tur's _way?"

"Those few who have such a gift for caring for others would not be wasting their time on such a dangerous endeavor."

I frowned at him. "You're painting these guys like they're some dangerous cult or something."

He nodded. "An apt analogy. That is precisely what they are."

"How do you know? Do you have any evidence to suggest they are cultist in their behavior? Have they harmed anyone? Sacrificed any babies or raped prepubescent girls or kept people prisoner?"

Soval's eyes widened at my descriptions, but I kept my expression stony. "Well?" I pressed.

"Yes, they have been known to harm others, and they do not limit themselves to prepubescent girls."

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh," was all I could think to say. "And you have evidence to support this?"

He nodded solemnly. "Most Vulcans who try to experiment with emotions come back to the proper mode of behavior, usually within six months to a year."

"You say most," I pressed. "Barring the _V'tosh ka'tur_."

"Yes."

"Who you say are rapists."

"Yes, some of their number are known to be quite...violent."

"Wait, _some_ of their number," I countered. "Not all _V'tosh ka'tur _are rapists."

He shifted in his seat and sighed. "No."

"Yeah, I was waiting for you to see that little flaw in logic. So what you're saying is that Vulcan society lumps all of the _V'tosh ka'tur_, rapist or otherwise, into one group, based solely on the actions of a few, correct?"

"Being around violent Vulcans can greatly influence the behavior of even the most peaceful of our people."

"Now I think you're not giving yourselves enough credit. You _pride _yourselves on being incorruptible, that your philosophy trumps all others."

"Yes, our proper philosophy. Not this bastardization of Surak's teachings."

"But not all of the _V'tosh ka'tur _are known to be violent," I pressed, bringing the argument back to my side.

"By abandoning what was put in place through _logical_ thought, they are opening themselves up to violent thoughts and behaviors. Murder, rape, terrorism...the _V'tosh ka'tur _are, by their own design, statistically more likely to engage in such behaviors."

I sighed. "Ok...I can see where you're coming from on that point, and I certainly wouldn't want a Vulcan rapist on my planet...God, it sounds so wrong to put those two words together..."

Soval winced, perhaps in silent agreement.

"But I still think this is a philosophical choice that they have made, and as long as they take steps to avoid hurting people, and their motives are more along the lines of self-exploration and self-expression than "I like to hurt people", then do they not fall under the blanket of "infinite diversity in infinite combination"? And I know how much you Vulcans love to pull that one on us when we're being difficult..."

"The coalescence of all those factors in one Vulcan is incredibly slim, so slim that it most likely does not exist."

"Are you so certain of that, though?" I rallied my thoughts, pushing away the headache that throbbed behind my temples, a byproduct of sparring with him. "If you met a Vulcan who wanted to explore the _V'tosh ka'tur _philosophy because, I don't know, he wanted to feel love and compassion for the first time or something...could you truly judge him? If it was this Vulcan's personal philosophy that feeling love and compassion would make him a better...veterinarian, and he wants to save kittens for a living...could you really tell him that his philosophy is wrong and what he's doing is dangerous?"

"I doubt such a Vulcan exists. It is not _logical _to put others at risk simply to indulge in self-exploration."

"The "Vulcans without logic" don't prescribe to utilitarianism? How shocking! What else is new?"

He flared his nostrils and drew himself up to his full height in his chair, but I simply raised an eyebrow and pressed my case. "They sound really human."

The ambassador blinked. "They are not human. You are..."

"Inclined to violence? Incredibly emotional? Non-utilitarian in their application of logic? Sounds like yours truly to me."

Soval furrowed his brows, silently staring at me, and he sighed.

"But I guess, in the long run, you win this one," I conceded, putting my hands up and slumping in my chair. "And you can tell my father to tell these _V'tosh ka'tur _to get lost or whatever...by the way, when did he say he would be here?"

"In approximately twenty minutes." He rose and checked on the casserole in the oven (the very same that he baked my first week here), and since he didn't pull it, I assumed it needed to cook for a few minutes longer.

I sniffed the air appreciatively. "Pulling out the big guns, huh?"

I had already explained this idiom to him two weeks ago, so he nodded and raised an eyebrow. "I remember you were rather fond of this casserole. I hope your father is as fond of it as you are."

"I'm sure he'll love it. You're a good cook, you know that?"

His gaze softened for a moment, and I smiled, making a conscious effort to drop the subject of the _V'tosh ka'tur_, and if my father brought them up, I had nothing to say on the matter. Soval had won fair and square, and even I could admit that my arguments were, in retrospect, kind of flimsy. Something about those Vulcans made him very uncomfortable, and I wasn't about to ask why.

"So how are things going, you two?" my dad said cheerfully as he dug into the vegetarian casserole half an hour later. I smiled graciously and sunk my fork into the gooey, steaming slice in front of me.

"Oh, things are great," I said before Soval could say anything, but the ambassador nodded along with me. "Free room and board, so I can't complain with that...and you can taste for yourself what kind of food I'm getting here."

My father had just shoveled a large bite into his mouth, and he put down his fork and closed his eyes. "Soval...dear Lord, this is delicious!"

"Told you," I said with a smirk. I took another bite and smiled appreciatively at my host, who was staring at the both of us with dark eyes. I also noted the tips of his delicately pointed ears had turned emerald green, and the flush was spreading down to his cheeks. But he looked pleased with our statements and quietly ate his meal, a satisfied smirk playing over his lips.

"Look, dad, we made him blush," I murmured, knowing full well Soval could hear me. Max smirked and shook his head, taking another appreciative bite.

"So tell me more about these...uh..._V'tok_...um, what do you call them?"

"_V'tosh ka'tur_," I said quickly, and Soval set his dark stare on me. I glanced once at him, then back to my father. "You shouldn't let them visit, dad. Soval says they're dangerous."

The ambassador turned his head towards me so fast I thought he must have experienced whiplash, and the look in his eyes made a soft, understanding smile erupt over my lips. His dark eyes glittered with an unreadable expression, but somehow I knew taking his side and taking his advice was the kindest thing I could do for him in this moment. The flush over his ears and cheeks intensified, until he set his eyes on my father, quietly affirming my statement.

"Dangerous?" he said incredulously, and Soval raised an eyebrow. "Your people are strong, but I don't know that they're _dangerous_, per say."

"These aren't your average Vulcans," I said. "They don't follow logic like normal Vulcans. Though I hesitate to lump all of them together as one unit," I spared a glance to Soval, who narrowed his eyes, perhaps in warning, "_V'tosh ka'tur _indulge in their emotions, which are often violent and taciturn. I suggest a good deal of tact when turning them away."

Soval fixed his dark stare on me, and I frowned in confusion. "What?"

He raised an eyebrow, and I realized what he was silently asking. "Well, you wouldn't want to anger them. Some measure of stern politeness would be wise, don't you think?"

The ambassador nodded, conceding to my point, and I smiled. "Maxwell, your daughter does make a good point. Have a care when speaking to them...their vessel is a civilian ship, and is not a threat to your world, but still...a desperate Vulcan is a dangerous Vulcan."

"Why would they be desperate?" my dad asked with a frown. I looked to Soval, just as curious as my father as to the answer to his question.

Instead of answering his question, Soval stared resolutely at his dinner, fiddling around with his food, and I was instantly reminded of that dinner with Tos a few weeks ago, how the stress of M'Rel's absence had made him fidgety and quiet. He was quite unlike the Vulcans my father knew, but Soval's behavior didn't surprise me. I had finally wheedled out of Timok that M'Rel had been sent back to Vulcan, but for what reason and in what state, he wouldn't say.

"He's not going to answer that, dad," I explained calmly, cutting myself another bite of my casserole. "It's probably classified information that Soval didn't mean to let slip."

I was teasing him as much as I was explaining his behavior (in some sense, defending him), and thankfully my father was a man who knew his limits. He didn't pry, no matter how much both of us wanted him to, and our talk turned to a much more cheerful subject: my dad's birthday, which was next week.

"I hope you both can pull your heads out of your work and come," he teased, grinning at Soval and nudging me under the table. I nudged him back and poured him some more water.

"You're getting old, daddy dearest," I said with a playful grin. "I wouldn't miss this chance to roast you for the world."

My father laughed, but Soval looked rather appalled. I quickly scanned what I had just said, however, I couldn't come up with a reason for the look of disgust on the ambassador's face. Then it hit me.

"We're not going to physically roast my father over a fire pit. That's...kind of disturbing. Roasting, in the colloquial sense, means to tease, to make good-natured jabs at him, for the most part about his age."

Maxwell laughed harder, perhaps conjuring up mental images of a giant firepit and Soval's horror, and I felt inordinately pleased with myself. It seemed I was getting better at reading Soval's confusion and bridging the lexical gap between him and us native speakers. It made me happy to think I was actually being of use to him, and I made a mental note to tell Timok about this latest development the next time I saw him.

"In any case," Soval said, bringing me out of my reverie, "I find it likely that you would not be adverse to a gift. What do you want for your birthday, Maxwell?"

"Telling you would take all the fun out of the surprise!" he protested, finishing up the last bites of his casserole. He reached for another slice, which Soval dished out for him, that pleased gleam returning, or so I thought. "I know you, ambassador. You'd get me exactly what I want, and there wouldn't be any surprise left in it...but if you really want to know..."

Soval shook his head. "If you wish a surprise, then I will consult with your daughter and find you something."

"Yeah, like a nice book," I suggested, smirking devilishly at my father. Soval raised an eyebrow, and I turned my smirk towards him. "I've gotten Dad a book for the last three years now."

"And it's time for something different," he said firmly, nudging me again under the table.

Soval looked pensive, sipping his tea as he stared at the woodwork of his table. "I will think of something, Max. Though your daughter's idea of giving you a book is a good one. I myself find gratification in reading."

"As do I," I said, raising an eyebrow at my father. "You need to get with the program!"

He shook his head and sighed.

…

Another hour, and my father was gone, reminding us to come to his party (and asking for the third time if there wasn't something he could do to help clean up; Soval practically shoved him out the door), and I even promised him that I would try to arrive early on that Saturday to help Mom set things up. He thanked Soval for dinner, kissed me on the cheek, and closed the door smartly behind him.

I turned to the table and stacked our dishes as Soval rolled up his sleeves and prepared to wash everything, like he did every night. He reached around me and took the stack of dishes off my hands, then reached passed me for the empty water glasses.

His chest brushed my shoulder as he reached for the cups, and I could hear his breathing in my ear. I stayed still, pondering the sensation of his robes rubbing along my arm. The fabric was smooth and it rustled as it ran along my long-sleeved cotton blouse; for the briefest moment, I thought I felt his hand graze my hip as he steadied himself on my chair.

I breathed in slowly, blinking in surprise as I unintentionally caught a waft of a pleasant, woodsy aroma. I wondered briefly if it was the way Vulcan clothes smelled, if it was simply the detergent they used, and I sniffed again in appreciation. Soval glanced at me (I guess he heard my sniffing), his dark pupils blooming, swallowing his hazel irises.

"Forgive me," he murmured, perhaps realizing that he was close enough for me to smell his clothes. He pulled away in any case and hurried to the sink, and I fetched a rag and the cleaning spray to wipe down the table and chairs, as had become my habit. He didn't complain about it now, and I was grateful he was letting me do this one task to help him. We were silent for the rest of the evening, but not in the awkward, rude sort of way as in previous weeks. It was a comfortable sort of quiet, the both of us absorbed in our work, me on my thesis, him on whatever paperwork or reports he had to fill out as his job required. I actually dared to ask him a few questions regarding sentence structure, and once 2300 rolled around, I found a stopping place and bid him good night.

"Sleep well, Ms. Forrest," he rumbled, nodding briefly to me. I nodded and slipped into my room, closing the door quietly behind me.

I made a beeline for the pile of clothes fresh from the laundry room, neatly folded on the chair in the corner of my room. I unfolded the blouse on top and inhaled the scent of the fabric, but I could smell nothing but a mild astringent smell, like hand sanitizer.

I frowned. Perhaps I had imagined that pleasant scent on the ambassador, and it wasn't as if I could simply ask to smell his robes. I shook my head, re-folded my shirt and changed into my pajamas, putting that little mystery away for now.

…

"Well, that was a no-go," I said with a sigh, setting my keys in the clay bowl on the counter (I had put it there when I moved in, with my roommate's permission, so I didn't clutter up the table). Soval and Timok were sipping tea and having a lighthearted conversation in Vulcan, but they turned at my announcement, both of them frowning.

"I didn't find anything," I explained, recognizing their reactions as confusion. I had spent the last hour searching for a gift for my dad, but I had come home empty-handed.

Their eyes lit with comprehension and I smirked, sitting down next to Timok. "Are you two discussing Vulcan secrets, or is this a conversation I can join?"

"Soval was discussing possible gift ideas for your father."

"Well, I didn't find anything. Everything I wanted to give to him, someone else is giving. Uncle Christopher is giving him a new wrench set, Mom's getting him the astronomy catalog, Max Jr is going with his traditional gift of booze...I'm fresh out of ideas, gentlemen."

Soval leaned forward. "Your father requested not to be given a book...but have you considered giving him something Vulcan?"

I blinked. "No...what did you have in mind?"

"Does your father enjoy the game of chess?"

"Yes...he's already got a nice chess set–"

The ambassador held up his hand. "There are Vulcan puzzles and games that utilize logic. Perhaps your father would appreciate a _kal-toh_ board?"

"What's _kal-toh_?"

He leaned back and steepled his fingers, and Timok took another sip of tea. "The purpose of the game is not to strive for balance, but to find the seeds of order amidst profound chaos," Soval replied. "The game begins as a jumble of rods, but each player moves a rod to a different place within the jumble, sowing the seeds of order as they go. The end result should be a geometric sphere."

"That sounds challenging," I said with a smirk. Then I smiled. "I think my dad would like that."

"Then I will call for a game to be sent up this evening."

My smile widened as I thanked him for helping me with my little dilemma, and as Soval offered to make me some tea (I accepted with another smile), I could feel Timok's eyes on me.


	5. The Party

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to dinopoodle, Laura 2468 and the anon reviewer for reviewing!**_

I deposited my bag of wrapping paper, scissors and tape on the clean table and put my backpack in my room, and I shrugged off my jacket, throwing it casually across the bed. Soval inspected my purchases as he set our gifts on the table, and I stretched languidly, reaching as far as I could from side to side. The bus ride back to the Consulate had been cramped and uncomfortable, and to top it all off, a cold wind was blowing off of the Bay; the sky outside the window was dull and dark, and it looked like we might get rain that night. However, weather forecast predicted clear skies tomorrow, and warmer temperatures – just in time for Dad's party.

Soval set our gifts on the table: mine was simply a hexagon base made of durable plastic, but when I asked about it, he pressed a button on the side, and a jumble of rods appeared attached to the base; he called it _kal-toh_. His gift was a Vulcan puzzle that looked as if a Rubik's cube and a miniature 1960's duplex had made a child together. Squares and rectangles of all sizes jutted out from its center, and I tried to comprehend the purpose of the odd cube. He explained its use as a meditation aide and logic puzzle, and I noticed now that symbols were painted on each visible side of each block. The user had to put these in a certain order to align them, and the puzzle would light up when they got it right.

"So it's basically a Rubik's cube on steroids?" I asked, turning the puzzle sideways to examine it from another angle. Soval raised an eyebrow. "It is akin to a Rubik's cube, but far more complicated?" I revised, and he nodded.

"As for this _kal-toh_ set," he murmured, then paused as I measured the wrapping paper for the boxes he had found.

"What about it?"

He blinked slowly. "I ordered another one from Vulcan, so I might teach you how to play...if you wish it."

I glanced sidelong at him and noted his tense shoulders, his fixed gaze (not on me), and his lips, turned slightly downwards. I smiled.

"I'd like that, ambassador."

He relaxed and glanced at me, and I thought I saw relief flash across his face before he hid it away.

…

As promised, I arrived a little early to help my parents set up the party, and where I went, Soval followed on my heels. My mom asked him to help her move some tables out, and to my surprise, he seemed more than willing to assist her. But what surprised me even more was how effortlessly he lifted the tables when my mother was struggling just to handle carrying three chairs. Even Dad stopped mixing the punch to watch Soval out on the deck, moving the furniture around as my mother commanded. I shot a glance towards my dad, and he grinned wickedly at me.

"So how have things been?" he asked gently as my mother set about arranging tablecloths and securing them against the slight breeze.

"They've been fine," I replied, impaling a few more peppers and onions on the skewer. Kabobs were on the menu today, and although my father usually burned everything he touched, my uncle Christopher (Max's younger brother) was a skilled cook, and he would be manning the grill. The party didn't start for another hour or so, but Chris had promised to come early, along with his wife, his children, and his wife's cooking, which was equally as good as his, if not better.

"Come on," my dad said. "I meet with the man every week...you're a friendly woman, pumpkin, but I find it hard to believe that it's been a cakewalk for you, living with him."

I sighed and pierced a piece of onion. "It wasn't easy at first. We argued all the time about the stupidest crap...we still do. Timok says he likes to argue because he's a diplomat and he's trying to keep his negotiating skills honed. Excuse me for living, but I don't like being used as anyone's whetstone."

My father snorted. "I don't blame you...but what about now?"

"It's gotten easier," I replied after a long pause. "He still gets on my nerves sometimes, but we might have struck an unspoken truce. I practically begged on bended knee that he not argue with me or you or anyone today, for my sanity."

"And he agreed?"

"Yeah."

My dad patted me on the back. "That's more than I can say for me. Half the time, I can't even win an argument with him, let alone get him to do anything for Starfleet."

Our conversation was cut short by Soval and my mother's return, and my dad went back to mixing the punch, adding another jug of juice to the bowl. My mother took over my job of skewering the kabobs, and I washed my hands thoroughly, eying the other fare my parents had laid out for the party. A crock of spinach artichoke dip bubbled away on the counter, and Mom had made bruschetta with olives and tomatoes; four pineapples had been dismembered as well, and I popped a piece of the sweet yellow fruit into my mouth.

"These look good, Mom," I told her. "Anything else I can do?"

The doorbell rang, and she gave me a pointed look. "Answer that."

It was Uncle Christopher and Aunt Mikayla, with their three children, plus one: Zak and his fiance Veronica (they would be married next fall), Hester, and Emilia. Zak and Veronica both were twenty-seven, two years my senior, while Hester had just turned twenty-one, and Emilia was only seventeen. My uncle wrapped me in an enthusiastic bear hug, but before Mikayla or Zak could even get a "hello" in edgewise, Hester was embracing me as if I had been gone for a thousand years.

"Hey, strangers!" I exclaimed, and after giving everyone else a hug, I led the family into the kitchen, and more hugs were exchanged between my parents and Max's relatives. While they eased into conversation about traffic and the weather and who all was coming to the party and wedding planning, Hester and Emilia slipped out of the circle of older adults and came over to chat with me. I led them to the corner where Soval lingered, seemingly unsure of himself.

I put my arm around Hester. "Loves, this is Ambassador Soval, your uncle Max's friend, and my roommate."

"Uncle Christopher told us about that," Emilia said, tilting her head slightly as she examined the Vulcan. He swallowed thickly.

"Ambassador, these are my lovely cousins, Hester and Emilia Forrest."

He bowed his head respectfully to them, and Hester squirmed beneath my grip. "I've never met a Vulcan before," she muttered, and Soval raised an eyebrow.

"A Vulcan scientist came and spoke to my class last year," her sister chimed, and the ambassador's gaze flicked over to the teenager.

"Dr. Senak," he stated, and she nodded.

"I think he said he was a microbiologist."

Soval quietly agreed, and I noticed for the first time that Emilia's wrist was in a cast.

"Broken or sprained?" I asked, and she sighed.

"Only sprained. Thankfully."

"And what was it this time? Land wrong on a back-flip?"

"A cartwheel," Emilia replied with a sigh. "I'm sidelined from the squad for six weeks."

The ambassador looked thoroughly confused, so I explained that my cousin was a cheerleader at her high school. Just as I was about to explain further, the doorbell rang again.

"Emilia, you explain. I'll get the door."

Max and his daughter Callie were at the door this time, and I smiled brightly at them, glancing around for my sister-in-law. "Where's Emily?"

"She had to work," my brother said. "Are we early? And is that Uncle Chris' car?"

"Yes to both questions. Hi Callie!"

Callie, a young, boisterous blonde girl of four, attached herself to my leg and shouted her greeting loud enough for the entire house to hear. "Aunt Genie! Aunt Genie! You'll never guess what we got Grandpa Max for his birthday!"

"I can guess, but you have to keep it a secret," I said, lowering my voice and leaning forward conspiratorially. "That way, Grandpa will be surprised when he opens his present."

"Will there be cake?"

"Yes, Aunt Mikayla brought cake for Grandpa Max. And brownies, if I'm not mistaken."

Callie looked up at her father with the most endearing expression of hope, and Max smiled indulgently. "You can have _one_ piece of cake, Callie Mae. No more."

She cheered loudly and bounced into the living room, tripped slightly, caught herself on the ottoman, then ran into the kitchen to greet her relatives. Max slipped inside and handed me his gift, then shut the door quietly behind him. "Dad told me about this arrangement with the Vulcans," he whispered, drawing me aside to the base of the staircase. He took his gift back (it was rather heavy; I suspected he had placed bricks in the box to make it seem heavier, just to trick Dad). "Two of my colleagues were sent off. We still haven't found some decent replacements."

"That must be frustrating for you," I murmured. I glanced down at the package in his arms. "I assume that's your usual fare?"

He offered me a wry smile. "You know exactly what this is. Maxwell always brings the party."

I smirked and rolled my eyes, but sobered when he set the package down and leaned forward. "Genie, tell me truthfully...are you doing ok with the ambassador? You're happy and safe there?"

"Happy?" I shook my head. "I'm ok, but I'm not exactly happy. But I do know I'm safe."

His gaze drifted to the kitchen, where Soval was absorbed in Emilia's explanation of cheerleading. She was extrapolating on the finer moves of the sport, and the ambassador seemed to hang on her every word. No doubt he found such a foreign concept fascinating, and he asked question after question, and Emilia was on a roll. Hester, to my surprise, was also engrossed in the conversation, occasionally offering her own opinion when Emilia paused, and Soval drank in every word they said.

"Something about this exchange program doesn't sit well with me, Genie," Max whispered. "It came out of nowhere and seems incredibly inconvenient for everyone involved, and yet they're going through with it anyway. Doesn't it all seem odd to you?"

"Yes," I admitted. "It does seem strange, and Soval...well, I have no idea what Vulcan normal is, so I can't exactly say he's been acting odd. But sometimes...I just don't get him."

At that moment (Emilia and Hester were arguing over the rules of football), Soval tore his eyes from my cousins and set his gaze on me and Max. I sighed and shrugged, looking away, but Max held the Vulcan's gaze, staring at him with a look that almost frightened me.

"If he gives you a hard time, you call me, and I'll set him straight."

I sighed again and left Max to deal with his present, returning to the happier task of talking with Emilia and Hester.

…

In the end, about thirty people attended Dad's birthday party, relatives, friends and colleagues all, but only his family and closest friends brought gifts. He was pleasantly surprised at my present, and even more surprised with Soval's.

"What is this, Soval?" he asked as the small crowd passed it around. The ambassador straightened.

"A Vulcan puzzle. I included the instructions on its purpose and how to solve it."

"Thank you!" he exclaimed, taking it back from Uncle Christopher. "Both of you, thanks!"

I smiled at him. "No problem, Dad."

Soon all his presents were opened, but the afternoon was warm and fine, the early autumn breeze rustling the upper eaves of the oaks and pines and California sycamores; the guest lingered, sipping punch and slowly eating the spread of snacks my mother and Aunt Mikayla had set out for them. Hester stayed almost constantly by my side, which I didn't mind so much since I hadn't seen her since last Christmas, and Soval didn't mind her so much either. She whispered in my ear as we refilled on punch that she would dearly love to see the Consulate gardens and study Vulcan flora if at all possible, and since I was living there, could I possibly convince my reserved roommate to let her come over, if only for a few hours? I promised her I would ask him later and pass along his answer when I was able.

She traipsed over to her Uncle Max to give him a warm hug (she had aided her mother in making the cake, which everyone was still eating with great enthusiasm), and I wondered back over to where I had last seen Soval. However, Max Jr, who was passing, said the ambassador had gone inside to fetch something for my mother. So I leaned against the railing, waiting for his return.

"I'm surprised to see you here, all things considered," a gruff voice said in my ear, and I turned with a frown to face my father's colleague, Admiral Gardner.

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused. "It's my dad's birthday party, it's not like I'd miss this."

He sighed, taking a sip of his beer. The smell of it was thick in my nose, and I hastily sipped my own drink to mask the stench coming from the can in his fist.

"Oh, I told Maxwell the other day that Leonard's girl hadn't answered his calls for ten days straight," he groused, taking another quick swig. "Worried sick about her, the poor man...she finally returned his call looking like all hell had broken loose on that planet...bruises, bumps, dark circles under her eyes...she said she'd been through a tough Vulcan ritual with her host."

"And you don't believe her?" I asked, suddenly uncomfortable. "I've argued with the most cantankerous Vulcan of them all, and I know the planet and the people are harsh. And why does this have anything to do with me showing up to this party?"

The admiral shrugged. "I was hoping you hadn't gone through any Vulcan rituals up at the Consulate. Are they treating you right, Genie? Max has been worried about you."

"I assure you, Ms. Forrest has been well treated during her stay. Your concern is commendable, admiral, but unnecessary."

I turned to my roommate; his gaze was fixed on Gardner, his eyes cold and harsh, making the warm afternoon feel suddenly chilly.

"Unless arguing over petty nonsense is some secret Vulcan ritual I'm not aware of, no, admiral, I haven't gone through any such thing at the Consulate," I said, turning back to Gardner with an assuring smile. "Certainly nothing to warrant bruising. The dark circles I can understand. I didn't get but maybe three hours of sleep the first night in the Consulate, it was so hot...I'm sure it's much worse on Vulcan."

"Indeed, it takes several hours for the heat of the day to dissipate, and the coolness does not settle until nearly 0100 Vulcan time."

"But what about the bumps and bruises?" the admiral countered, his ice-blue eyes narrowing at the Vulcan. "I guess sleeping is hazardous on your planet?"

"No," Soval said calmly. "You mentioned she endured a ritual with her host. Several of those include sleeping in the wilderness and braving rough terrain. Her injuries do not surprise me, and she will be healed of them soon. Medical technology on Vulcan is far more advanced than yours."

Gardner still wasn't convinced. "But why didn't she return her father's calls for ten days straight? And why won't she tell him more about this ritual? She only mentioned something in passing about caves, but no details. This is her father, for God's sake."

"Admiral, many Vulcan rituals are highly private, and she is obviously respecting her host's culture. You should be commending her for that. As for not answering her father's calls, did it not occur to you that he might be calling in the dead of night, perhaps? There is a time difference to consider when arranging communiques to other worlds."

I smiled wryly at the admiral. "I'm with the ambassador on this one. I'm sure Leonard's girl is just fine."

"Tell yourself what you wish, Genevieve," he said, and I frowned. He walked away to the other side of the spacious deck, and I glanced at Soval. He was watching Gardner's retreat with narrowed eyes, and I sighed as he disappeared around the corner of the house.

"You think this girl is ok, don't you?" I implored. He tore his gaze from where the admiral had disappeared to regard me with dark eyes. His expression did not soften.

"I do not know," he admitted, and I raised an eyebrow. "Most likely yes, but my planet is, as you said...harsh."

I gave pause to his quiet admission and pondered privately if Leonard's daughter would truly be all right. After all, I had been fortunate, free from adjusting to a new gravity and climate, or a longer day and shorter, hotter night. Whatever had happened to this young woman, she was braver than me.

"She will be tended to," he assured me, as if reading my thoughts. I glanced at him. "Her host will look after her. Just as I look after you."

I opened my mouth to attempt a reply to that statement, but Hester's return stilled my tongue. She gave me a pointed look and raised her eyebrows expectantly, and it took me a moment to realize what she was asking.

"I'll ask him later," I whispered. She frowned, and Soval blinked slowly.

"Ask me what, Ms. Forrest?"

"I said I'll ask you _later_," I insisted with a pained smile. I knew Hester better than most, and Soval's bluntness wouldn't sit well with her sensitivity and gentleness. If the ambassador refused her a visit (which I had a strong feeling he would), then I wanted to let Hester down gently.

As the day waned on towards the 4 o'clock hour, the party began to dissipate, and just as I was bringing in the empty punch bowl from the deck, I heard my father bidding Admiral Gardner a fond farewell.

"I'll see you Monday, John," he said with a grin, shaking the man's hand. Gardner smiled, his gaze straying to me. I paused and nodded, then continued on my way to the kitchen. The punch bowl was glass and rather heavy.

"You take care of yourself, Genie," he called after me, and I backed up. I noticed a strange gleam lighting his icy blue eyes. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask your father or me for help, ok?"

"I'll keep that in mind, admiral," I said politely, then hurried to the kitchen.

Uncle Christopher and his family had to return home to Menlo Park (as Zak and his fiance worked Sundays, and Hester had homework to catch up on), but Max and Callie would be staying to go out to dinner with us. It would only be the seven of us (Emily would be coming after she got off work), and as Soval and I took care of the dishes, I passed along Hester's request.

"She only wants to stay for a few hours and look at some flowers. I know you said I can't have visitors, but I am asking you...please make an exception for her. She would absolutely love to see the Consulate garden, and I don't know anyone else who would appreciate it more than her. Would you please consider letting her come over?"

"Am I to expect this every time one of your friendswants to pay you a visit?"

I glared at him. "No. This isn't about Hester coming to see me, it's about her coming to see alien flowers that she's never had access to before. She wants to study them, to expand her knowledge...this is for her edification, not because I want to disobey your rules about having friendsover. Surely you can understand that."

I thought surely a plea for Hester's continuing education would make him relent; Timok had told me that Vulcans held education and learning in high esteem. Soval, however, only sighed.

"While I admire Ms. Forrest's desire for learning, I must refuse. She would be a distraction to my staff, and that will not do."

"She wouldn't bother anyone! I'll tell her not to talk to any of your staff and to stay quiet in the Consulate halls! She doesn't want to make a bad impression on you, so she'd obey any of your rules that you lay down." _No matter how ridiculous they are_, I thought to myself.

He shook his head. "That is not enough. Her mere presence would be a distraction to my staff."

"_How?_" I insisted. "She wouldn't talk to anyone or make any noise. If it's her smell you're talking about, that can't really be helped. You'd think Vulcans would have gotten used to us by now. One human wouldn't cause that much of a disturbance among your staff."

He closed his eyes before I was even finished with my sentence, and I frowned at him as he flared his nostrils. "I forgot about the human scent..." he muttered to himself, then fixed his dark gaze on me. "Tell me, Genevieve, how old is Hester Forrest?"

"Twenty-one."

"And is she attached to any male?"

I blinked. "You're asking if she likes anyone? I don't think so..."

To my surprise, he frowned slightly, and I realized he was confused. "To _like _someone in this context..."

"I'm sorry, forgive the slang. She is not romantically attracted to anyone, not that I know of, anyway."

"That makes her visit even more unwise."

I put down the scrub brush and stared incredulously at him. "What does this have to do with anything? You're not making any sense!"

He flared his nostrils. "Hester Forrest is far too young and pretty to be visiting the Consulate."

He raised his voice a little, his tone harsher than he probably meant it, however, the minute the words exited his mouth, his eyes widened just so. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was regretting his statement and wanted to take it back.

In any case, this did nothing to alleviate my confusion, in fact, it compounded it. But I rallied my thoughts and raised my eyebrow.

"So that's why you keep me at the Consulate."

I continued my scrubbing with a wry smile, internally patting myself on the back for my clever retort, but that victory was short-lived; I felt his fingers grip my chin and turn me to face him, and I stared at his dark eyes with apprehension.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Hester is very pretty, Genevieve...but _you_ are beautiful."

Soval did not drop his fingers, nor loosen his grip, and his grip was firm, grasping me tighter than anyone had any right to grasp. His eyes were intent on mine, dark and glittering, and for the life of me I could not think of a retort to his comment. Nothing came to mind. I felt trapped by his gaze, and the longer I stared at him, the harder it was to look away. His thumb shifted.

His fingers were warm, as if he were feverish, and the heat of his touch seeped into my skin. Suddenly I was very aware of my fingertips and lower back: my fingers were tingling so hard they almost hurt, and a strange sensitivity was building right above my jeans. I summoned my willpower to tell him that I didn't believe him for an instant, that he was lying, that no Vulcan would ever look at a human woman and think she was deserving of the title _beautiful_; I didn't mean it in a sense that our two peoples couldn't respect each other, but I found it hard to believe that any Vulcan man would find an Earth female attractive.

He furrowed his brow. "I will not accept that, Genevieve," he growled before I could speak. "It displeases me that you think so low of yourself."

I came to my senses and gently shoved his hand away. Something about his touch was making it hard for me to think. "I don't have low self-esteem, ambassador, I think it's ludicrous that you think I'm anything but ordinary."

He stared at me, his gaze boring into my skin. "So it is _me_ that you think so low of, not yourself."

"You're irritating as hell sometimes, but I don't necessarily have a low opinion of you. Are you not listening to what I'm trying to say? I just find it hard to think that your sense of aesthetics would lead to believe I'm anything but average!"

Soval opened his mouth to retaliate, but a voice stopped him.

"Am I interrupting anything?" my brother asked, and I shook my head at him.

"Just a friendly discussion about how our species differ," I said simply. "Can we help you?"

"Yeah...I need to talk with the ambassador for a second, Genie. Mom needs help in the laundry room."

"But I'm doing dishes."

Max gave me a pointed look and gestured to the door. "Let me have a private talk with your new roommate, ok, sis?"

"Whatever," I grumbled, setting aside my scrub brush. "Have your man talk."

My brother patted me on the back as I passed him, and I sighed, leaving the two most stubborn men I knew alone together. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea, but it was too late to turn back now. Max was already launching into a lecture about pecan trees, and I didn't even want to consider what his final point would be. If there was anything I had learned in my twenty-five years of living, it was that men were utterly confusing creatures, and trying to decipher their motives gave me a headache every time.


	6. Concessions

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Laura 2468, dinopoodle, isfoss86, and Lll for reviewing.**_

It was getting dark by the time we left the restaurant, saying our goodbyes in the parking lot before climbing into Soval's aircar. He had been quiet since I left him in the kitchen, and a part of me was afraid to ask what my brother had said to him. He had thrown Max furtive glances throughout the meal and he hadn't eaten very much.

"What did Max tell you?" I asked halfway over the Bay. The ambassador sighed.

"He made threats to my person, should I prove to be...an unfriendly host to you."

"He said he'd beat you up or kill you if you didn't stop being mean and grouchy?"

Soval glanced sidelong at me. "Something to that effect."

I rolled my eyes. "You know that's illegal, right? Unless it's in self-defense, battery is not a threat he should be throwing out lightly, especially not to a visiting ambassador with diplomatic immunity."

He shifted in his seat. "He did not mean it lightly, Ms. Forrest. He was serious."

"If that's the case, that's even worse."

"Genevieve, if I were ever to mistreat you, I _deserve _the punishment Maxwell detailed for me."

I glared at him, incredulous. "Mistreat me? In what way?"

He was silent on the matter, but I pressed on. "Look, it's not your job to make me happy. I was under the impression that this was a cultural exchange. We've had disagreements, sure, but you taught me about the _V'tosh ka'tur, _and me and Emilia have brought you up to speed on football. Slow progress for a month, but it's a start."

Soval had nothing to say in reply to that, and we fell back into a thick silence, with only the sound of our breathing and the soft hum of the aircar to fill the space between us.

"But about Hester..."

He turned and shot me a warning look. I continued carefully.

"If you change your mind about her visit...would you please let me know?"

The ambassador glanced over at me, then nodded. I smiled at my victory, small as it was; I had very little hope for Hester's plea to be approved, but I need not tell her that just yet. I would let him sleep on the matter and let it be...for now. I was sure Timok had his own opinion on this matter, and I was eager to hear it. I'd seek his advice tonight, were it not for the late hour. He probably wasn't awake.

But no matter. There was always tomorrow.

…

As the chances of Soval changing his mind about Hester were slim to none, so I decided to come up with a back-up plan, a consolation prize for my soon-to-be disappointed cousin. I didn't know of any library in the area, not even the Great Library, that carried a book about Vulcan flora. Most libraries were concerned only with storing Earth's knowledge, not so much about alien information. But there was one place that might have a book about Hester's new obsession, and it was worth bending Soval's rules to get it.

The Consulate library was well-lit by a row of large windows, and what heat could be gleaned from lazy September afternoon streamed in with the bright sunlight. It was quiet and warm and empty, and I briefly entertained the idea of sneaking down here for naps before I turned my attention to the man at the front counter, whom I assumed was the librarian.

He had dark hair graying at the temples and thin lines on his face. He was about Sorak's age, perhaps older by a decade (my skill at determining Vulcan ages was shoddy at best), and he frowned as he caught sight of me.

"I did not expect to see you here," he murmured, his voice deep and soothing. I smiled politely.

"Well, I'm looking for a book. This is obviously the place to go."

_Real witty, Forrest, _I thought to myself with a mental wince. _Stay on task._

The librarian, however, offered me a shadow of a smile and leaned against the counter. "What kind of book are you looking for?"

"Do you have anything on Vulcan plants? Maybe a catalog of what grows here in the Consulate garden?"

"I don't have a catalog of what grows here, but I have several books on Vulcan flora."

"Awesome!" I said with a bright smile. Then I paused. "Are any of them in English?"

The man blinked slowly, furrowing his brow, perhaps accessing his mental catalog. Soval had proven plenty of times over our short acquaintance that he had a remarkable memory, and the ability to bring up any tidbit of information in a matter of seconds.

"We have a detailed catalog regarding Vulcan flora, but it is in Vulcan. I would offer to translate it for you, however, someone has already checked it out."

My heart sunk and I shook my head, but I didn't allow myself to give up hope just yet. "When will this person return the catalog?"

"Not for another week."

I could wait that long, but I wanted to explore other options. "Do you know of any libraries in this area that have a similar book in their stocks? And maybe in English?"

"No, T'Sai. Even if they had such a book, no one that I know of has attempted a translation."

I breathed in, pushing away that awful sinking feeling in my chest. "I know you probably can't tell me this, but who checked out the book?"

"Ambassador Soval called for it this morning."

I blinked and quickly thanked him for his help, then hurried to the turbolift. I was alone in the elevator, and I remembered the ambassador telling me his office was on the third floor, and how to get there, should I need anything when he was not in our shared quarters; I shifted my weight from one foot to the other...I was so close to my prize, but I had my doubts. It was possible I could convince the ambassador to part with that book, but then again, if my powers of persuasion were so good, why hadn't I been able to convince him to let Hester visit for a few hours?

_No_, I told myself. _He said there were extenuating circumstances to visits. I just want this book...that's not asking much, is it?_

I couldn't assure myself of the answer to that question.

And then, of course, there was the matter of translating the text. I thought of Timok, then dismissed the idea. He was too busy. The librarian? A possibility...he had offered to translate for me, but Soval had strictly forbidden me from fraternizing with his staff. But I wasn't fraternizing...I was taking the man up on his offer, using his skills and services. But what if he wanted compensation? He probably would demand payment for all that work...I dismissed the idea. Maybe Sorak would be willing to help me.

When I approached the aide's desk, I put on my sweetest smile and straightened my posture. "Hello again, Mr. Sorak," I said politely. "Is the ambassador in?"

"Yes, he is in a meeting. He will be concluding his business shortly. Is something wrong?"

"No, I just wanted to ask him something. Better to catch him now in between things rather than wait til tonight...I might forget about it by then. I won't take long, I promise."

I invited myself to take a seat outside the office without waiting for permission, but Sorak didn't seem to mind. I rather liked the man, even though he often didn't say much to me, restricting his conversation to the barest of pleasantries. He almost seemed afraid to say much more than that to me, and I had the strangest feeling that it wasn't by choice.

But those thoughts skittered back into the dark recesses of my brain as Timok and Soval exited the ambassador's office. The elder Vulcan's hands were wrapped carefully around a thick, heavy tome, and I immediately stood, meaning to apprehend my friend before he could escape the vicinity.

"Timok, what book is that?"

He glanced at me, a tiny smirk on his lips. "It is a catalog of Vulcan flora. Soval believes it will be beneficial for me to read it, considering the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" I asked, but he shook his head and nodded to the ambassador.

"_Osu_," he murmured. His eyes twinkled as he bowed his head to me in farewell, leaving me confused and in the uncomfortable position of being frustrated with the old man.

"Ambassador," I began, but I couldn't find the words to express myself. Timok had been right _there_, that damnable book in his hands, and I hadn't even told him that I wanted to borrow it. How hard was it to just ask for some educational material for my cousin? The old man would understand, but today of all days he distracts me and leaves me with questions. Then again, he always did that. Bugger it all.

"Ms. Forrest." The ambassador had spoken a few words with his faithful aide while I stared dumbfounded after Timok, and he probably knew that I had asked to speak with him. Soval ran on a schedule, and he didn't have time to waste.

"The thing I wanted just walked away in Timok's hands," I said, my voice thick with frustration. "And what was he talking about, _considering the circumstances_?"

"For that, you will have to step into my office. I must discuss something with you."

His voice faltered for a moment, and my heart started pounding in nervous anticipation. I wasn't uncomfortable with his presence, but somehow being called into his office to discuss something sounded like I was about to be reprimanded, and I was in no mood for that today. Still, I brushed past him and waited for him to close the door before turning around.

"Look," I said before he could get a word in edgewise, "I know you're not enthusiastic about Hester coming to visit, so I thought I'd do the next best thing and get her that book. There is the translation to think of, and how I'm going to get it to her if you don't let people take books outside the Consulate – and I understand if you wouldn't allow that – but there has to be some way I can further this girl's education without offending you or your staff."

He blinked several times, and I privately thought to myself that he looked kind of adorable when he looked confused. "Genevieve, there is no need for you to translate that book...though I appreciate that you sought alternative solutions to this dilemma instead of persisting. In any case...what would be a good day for Ms. Forrest to come visit the gardens?"

It was my turn to blink in confusion. I tilted my head to the side, proceeding with caution. "You...changed your mind?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I decided a visit from your cousin would not be unacceptable, as long as she had a proper guide. Timok volunteered to give her a tour and supervise her while she visits."

I might have complained about his notion that Hester needed supervision (the girl was almost twenty-one and knew how to behave in a civilized manner), but instead I gave him my biggest, brightest smile and clapped my hands together.

"Ambassador, _thank you_! You have no idea how much this will mean to her...seriously, this visit will make her year." I shook my head at him in relief, my apprehension melting away. "_Thank you_."

If he was adorable when he was confused, Soval was absolutely endearing when he blushed. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again and took a deep breath.

"You may not be so happy when you hear my stipulation."

"Hester will comply with any rule you lay down, as long as she gets to see those flowers. So name it," I replied, raising my chin. He shook his head.

"Not for her...for you."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

He sighed and narrowed his eyes slightly. "I will allow Hester to come visit the Consulate garden, so long as she is supervised by Timok...and in exchange...you will accompany me this Friday to an event."

I had to let my mind catch up to his words, and I blinked. "What kind of event?"

"Senator McCabe is hosting a dinner for select Starfleet personnel and his fellow senators, and their spouses. He has invited me as well, and suggested I bring a guest. You will be that guest."

Well, that wasn't too bad. Sure, it would probably be incredibly tedious, but at least Soval would be there. Oh bother...I knew it had to be boring when talking to Soval sounded more appealing than listening to big brass and the uppercrust drone on about nothing. Although I was sure my presence at the ambassador's side might cause for a somewhat awkward evening, I could see myself being quite useful to him, whispering the hidden meanings of every colloquialism to come out of the big brass' mouth. What a thought, being useful to a Vulcan.

"What time is this dinner?" I asked, pulling my PADD from my jacket pocket. I pulled up Friday's schedule and saw a meeting with my adviser in the morning, then lunch with one of my friends, and a clear evening.

"1900 hours." He frowned. "You are accepting the terms, then?"

"Yes. I'll have to get back to you regarding Hester, but what do you want me to wear to this dinner? Is it casual or formal?"

"Somewhat formal...a dress will do. Something simple."

"I'll rifle through my closet and see what I can find. Anything else?"

He blinked several times, maintaining silence for over a minute before he answered me. "You are not adverse to this arrangement?"

I stepped closer to him and looked him straight in the eye, offering up another sweet smile. "You let Hester visit...so you've got yourself a deal. Thank you, ambassador. Anything else we need to discuss while I'm here?"

"There is nothing else we need to discuss at this time, but if you will excuse me, I must inform Senator McCabe that I am bringing a companion to his event."

"I've never met him...what's your opinion of him?"

The ambassador frowned once again. "I believe _ambitious _would be a fitting description of him. Some may find him charming, I suppose."

I smiled. "Well, I look forward to mingling with the big brass with you, ambassador. Have a pleasant afternoon."

His brows twitched inward for a brief moment before he raised them, apparently in surprise. "And you, Ms. Forrest. Until tonight."

"Until tonight," I repeated, the smile touching my lips a genuine one. He was being unusually sweet, and it filled me with the freshest sense of optimism I had felt in a while. It was a beautiful day outside, and I was aching for a brief jog before dinner, to take in the crisp autumn air and revel in life's simplicities, in my victory for Hester.

I nodded politely to him and took my leave, swinging my hips in satisfaction as I sauntered out of his office.

…

I straightened the hem of my navy blue dress and adjusted my curls, trying to get a good idea of how I looked from the small mirror I had hung on the wall when I moved in. The bathroom didn't have a mirror, as Vulcans saw them as instruments of vanity; they, with their disciplined minds, could tell if their clothes were straight or their hair neat enough to be seen by the public, but as I was a mere human trying to look elegant enough for a VIP dinner, I needed my little mirror now more than ever.

I looked down at myself with a skeptical frown. It wouldn't hurt to get a second opinion, but unfortunately Timok was off running an errand for Soval and wouldn't be back until we were halfway through the third course. So my only recourse would be to ask Soval...and I'd have to ask him about my outfit anyway, considering he knew more than I what would be appropriate to wear to this event. There was nothing for it then. I left the sanctuary of my room and found Soval already dressed and ready to go, adjusting the collar of a set of brilliant silver robes. These were more elegant than his usual garments, embroidered with stunning blue needlework. Vulcan script and IDICs swathed the back and the hems, and I thought privately to myself that he looked rather dashing in his getup. I hoped I looked as elegant as he did.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked, feeling under-dressed and childish in my simple lace and bangles.

He turned to look at me, and his neutral expression melted into something unreadable. It almost looked like concern, or maybe shock, but with him it was hard to tell; he hid any potential emotions under a mask of neutrality laced with a dash of ire, but I did not see irritation in his features. His eyes bloomed dark and followed my body from my hair to my heel-encased feet, probably coming up with a laundry list of reasons why my outfit was unacceptable and tacky, and I predicted I would have to change into something else before he approved my attire.

"You look..." he murmured, then coughed. Was he clearing his throat? Why? "Your attire will do," he announced, then quickly looked down at himself to continue adjusting his collar. I blinked, surprised that he was at all agreeable towards my outfit, but one did not look a gift horse in the mouth, especially where Soval was concerned.

"Well, I'm glad you approve," I said, trying to keep my voice pleasant. He looked back to me, albeit reluctantly, and sighed.

"You will attract plenty of attention tonight, Genevieve. I do not disapprove of that dress. It meets the stipulations I placed on you...even if it is not what a Vulcan would wear."

"I don't know if you've noticed, ambassador, but I just so happen to be human," I replied with a smirk. He sighed again.

"A fact of which I am constantly aware." He paused. "Your dress is elegant and simple and flatters your figure. As I said, it will do."

I smirked, fighting the urge to blush. "Right. You look way more elegant than I ever could. Let me get my clutch and let's be off."

He blinked, obviously unsure of how to respond. "You are correct – we should be leaving if we are to be on time."

"God forbid I make you even a few seconds late, ambassador," I adjusted the sleeve of my dress and straightened my posture, and followed him out the door.

…

The click of my heels echoed on the wide flagstones that made up Senator McCabe's drive and front entryway, and I lifted my chin and straightened myself once more as I caught the strains of music coming from the backyard. A man was waiting for us at the entrance to McCabe's large abode, and Soval, to his credit, slowed his pace and supported me as we climbed the steps, as there was no handrail.

The man at the door was McCabe's butler, and he led us through the house to a back courtyard, where tables and chairs were set up around a sleek stone fountain. Soval had told me that fewer than fifty people would be in attendance, and indeed, it was a small crowd who mingled amongst the statues and topiary that decorated the senator's backyard.

A tall, slender man of forty or fifty broke away from his conversation with another guest and made a beeline for us, smiling up at the ambassador as he helped me down the steps. The man's hair was brown, graying at the temples and hairline, and his face was slightly lined with age. He had a stately look about him, a patrician nose and dark eyes, and high cheekbones. His teeth were very white and almost glistened in the light of the soft lanterns that lit the courtyard.

"Ambassador," McCabe said with a wide grin. "When you said you were bringing a companion to this little get-together, I assumed I'd be seeing one of your aides! I wasn't expecting a beautiful woman." His eyes bored intently into mine. "Do introduce me."

I could see why Soval had dragged me along to this affair. From a certain standpoint, McCabe seemed like an insufferable conversation partner, yet I found his speech oddly endearing.

"This is Genevieve Forrest, senator. Her father is Admiral Forrest...she and I are in the exchange program together."

I smiled at the human and held out my hand for him to shake, but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and brushed a kiss across my knuckles. I was flattered (just a little), but mostly surprised at his actions, and my smile rose slightly higher.

"A pleasure to meet you, senator," I said as warmly as I could. No one would say Genevieve Forrest made a bad first impression. Not tonight.

Soval glanced sidelong at me, but I ignored him, pressing on. "And you are Senator McCabe?"

"In the flesh. Welcome to my home."

I glanced around at the splashing fountain and all the greenery and sighed in contentment. "It's lovely out here. Thank you for inviting us."

McCabe looked rather pleased with himself and helped me down the rest of the stairs into the sunken stone yard. "I think she's charming, ambassador! Come, my dear, there are so many people you should meet."

And so my effort to make a very good impression on our hosts resulted in nearly half an hour of introductions to the rich socialites and big brass in the senator's inner circle. Almost everyone in attendance was older than me (except for some very young senate aides and a few trophy wives), but thankfully everyone at least pretended to like me, making positive comments about my hair and my dress, and asking a barrage of questions regarding my relationship to the ambassador.

As for my Vulcan companion, he spent those thirty minutes of introductions hovering in the background, looking sullen each time I glanced his way. I wasn't sure what was putting him in such a foul mood, but I hoped I could do something to dispel it once I broke free from McCabe's relentless gauntlet through the small crowd of guests.

Finally I begged off to get a drink and find my date, and I located him standing alone by the fountain, no drink in hand, staring at the crowd behind me with dark, narrowed eyes.

He sighed. "They adore you," he murmured, raking his eyes over me.

"Just as much as I adore them," I retorted, and he raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, do you think every single one of those people was really that impressed with me? They only pretend to like me because my father counts as a low-level connection, but mostly because I'm here with you. There might have been one or two who actually think I'm charming and pretty, but the rest are faking it."

His expression did not relax. "The senator is not faking it."

"Well, I was especially nice to him. He's the host, after all, and I won't have people saying I didn't know how to make a good first impression. And since McCabe is the host, I think you fail to realize he's supposed to pretend to be delighted to see everyone here."

Soval shook his head. "In any case, they will be discussing the two of us behind our backs for the rest of the night."

"Why?"

His eyes were even darker as he turned his gaze to me. "Can you truly not see?"

"I suppose you bringing some random woman is bound to create some buzz, but I explained that we're exchange partners. For all they know, you brought me here to give you a hands-on lesson in etiquette and small talk."

"Or I brought you here solely because I desire your company."

I rolled my eyes. "Half an hour in, and I can see why. This must be so tedious for you."

He blinked slowly, then glanced back at the reflection of the windows in the rippling water. "Yes, Ms. Forrest, it is...difficult. Earth forms of socialization often confound me."

"Well, thank God you brought me along. At least we can be confounded together, hm?"

He didn't look at me, but he seemed amused by my statement. "Allow me to get you a drink," he said finally, turning my way. "What would you like?"

"Oh, anything non-alcoholic. I'm not in the mood to drink tonight."

"Water will suffice?"

"Yes, thank you."

I watched him walk away, and indeed, many of the guests were throwing discreet glances towards him, and towards me. I hadn't noticed if they had been watching our interaction (yet something told me they had been straining their ears to hear what we were discussing), but now that I was turned towards them, I saw several of them steal a curious look in my direction. I chose to watch the fountain and admire the topiary, and soon enough, Soval was back at my side, a wine glass filled with water in his hand.

I thanked him and took a long drink of it, relishing the cool liquid trickling down my parched throat. "They're watching us," I murmured behind my glass as I took another drink. He nodded ever so slightly, his brown eyes clouded with thought.

"What are you thinking about?" I inquired, tilting my head. He blinked, clearing the distant look from his eyes.

It took him a minute to answer me. "I am debating the merits of bringing you here. Perhaps it was not the best choice."

"Oh, are you already bored with my company?" I quipped, and he glared at me.

"An intelligent person is never bored. And no, Genevieve, I have not tired of your companionship."

I smiled at him, sighing in relief. "Well, I'm glad of that. So why are you suddenly so conflicted about bringing me along?"

"There are several higher class humans here who have an affinity for gossip. You may find your name in the tabloids come morning."

Despite the lack of appeal of such a notion, I laughed. "Ambassador, I didn't know you cared so much about me. Don't worry about it...you know they're having a slow news day if the best they can come up with is two exchange partners going out in public together." I gasped sarcastically for full effect. "Shocking, I know."

His eyes glittered in amusement, or what looked like amusement, and he shook his head with the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. "You are correct in that regard, Ms. Forrest. If you insist that it does not bother you, then you and I will ignore whatever gossip sprouts from this gathering. I only wished to warn you."

"And I appreciate that," I said sincerely. "More than you know."

He did not look at me, but somehow I knew he was pleased, and it showed in the minute softening of the lines around his face. He looked more relaxed, and straightened his posture without stiffening it. The gesture struck me as strangely attractive. Was this the charming Soval that Timok insisted was hidden away beneath the cantankerous exterior?

"You really do look nice in those robes," I muttered. "I can't imagine how long it must have taken to complete all that embroidery. The silver goes quite nicely with your hair."

He stared at me, blinking several times as a bright green flush spread over his cheeks and tinged the tips of his ears.

I stopped fighting my smile and opened my mouth to press on, but McCabe sauntered over and announced that dinner would be served in about ten minutes, and that he would like us to sit down. The courtyard had been decorated with seven circular tables that sat seven each, and the guests were breaking off into little groups, each claiming a table for themselves.

"How long are we supposed to stay?" I muttered to Soval as we waiting for a couple of senators' wives to step aside and let us pass.

"Only a few hours," he assured me. "I never linger too long at these events."

I sighed and braced myself for a very long evening, but even I didn't miss the sidelong glance my date threw at me, that endearing flush still painting his cheeks green.


	7. The Dinner

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to xxxkris44, wolfen281, 2redbird, dinopoodle, Laura 2468, Icybay611, escape5, and the anon reviewer for reviewing! **_

_**A/N: Why do all of you (except dino) have numbers in your names? Also, sorry for the late update, guys. I got busy doing some personal stuff yesterday and forgot it was Monday. :P Here you go.**_

At our table were the two senators' wives who were previously in our way, their husbands, and another high-society woman named Pollyanna Mackleroy, and as she was seated next to me (placing me between her and Soval), she decided to adopt me as her conversation partner for the evening. I would have been fine with nodding my head to her drabble and eating as I did so, but Ms. Mackleroy decided to inundate me with rapid-fire questions about anything and everything. What was my opinion on this new exchange program? How did I like my roommate? Were the other occupants of the Consulate friendly? What was my stance on the Vulcans' presence anyway? I scarcely had time to breathe, let alone eat, and it seemed Soval was attune to my distress and distracted Ms. Mackleroy with a question of his own so I could shovel a few bites of chowder into my mouth.

"And how are you finding this exchange, ambassador?" Ms. Mackleroy asked in her flowery voice. "Is it satisfactory?"

"It is...interesting, and not what I expected. But Ms. Forrest and I cooperate with each other, and we seem to be able to tolerate our circumstances."

"Barely," I muttered with a playful wink at our talkative companion. She giggled, an annoying titter like a bird right outside the window at five in the morning. But I smiled as she tittered away, glad someone found me charming _and_ amusing (and didn't seem to be faking it), and then I took the opportunity to eat more of my chowder. I finished the rest of the small bowl in two bites, just in time for the second course to be laid before me.

And so we steadily ate our way through four more courses, and I did notice that the servers placed vegetable dish after vegetable dish in front of the ambassador, as opposed to the beef brisket and lamb stew the rest of us were served. The food was delicious, but I would have enjoyed it better had Ms. Mackleroy not chosen to seat herself next to me. Soval and I silently agreed on a strategy, as one of us would engage the middle-aged woman while the other ate, and then switch, and thankfully my lamb stew was just as good lukewarm as piping hot.

I ended up pleasantly full, but I wondered why Soval hadn't received any chocolate cake for dessert. He instead dug into a bowl of fruit; perhaps he simply didn't like desserts. I knew my brother didn't especially like sweets, and I reminded myself to ask the Vulcan about it when Ms. Mackleroy went away.

But unfortunately, she didn't leave our table when the meal was over and everyone began switching tables and mingling again. The servers poured champagne and even brought out expensive liquor for the guests to sip at, but I stuck to water and stayed in my seat, in between Ms. Mackleroy and Soval.

"I remember when you were first instated to this world, ambassador. I was very young, but I remember. I'd never seen a Vulcan before, much less an alien, and I must say, you were not at all what I was expecting." She tittered into her champagne, and I raised a private eyebrow at Soval, who looked rather exhausted.

"What were you expecting, my dear? Green skin and antennae?" said a familiar voice.

"Oh, Silas!" the poor woman exclaimed, turning around to face our host. "I was...well, I was very young! That was years and years ago."

I knew Ms. Mackleroy had to be at least in her forties, and if Soval had arrived about thirty years ago, then she would have been a teenager. I decided to forgive her for that.

"Senator, she's right! Personally, I find it hard to believe that you were even born then." I noted with pleasure that she smiled at me, and I winked in return.

The senator laughed. "Ambassador, you must bring her again in December to the Gala!"

"If her schedule permits it, and if she is agreeable to the notion, I will bring her again."

"Please do," he said, smiling at me. "You're not the only one who enjoys her presence. Now, Ms. Mackleroy, I did have something to ask you...if you would?"

He held out his elbow for her to take, and she immediately stood and accepted his escort. He led her off to a group of male senators, winking over his shoulder at us as he walked away.

Soval sighed, and I sighed in solidarity. "Have you met her before? Is she always like that?"

He nodded and ran his finger absentmindedly around the base of his wineglass (filled with ice-cold water, like mine). "But she is charmed by you."

"My parents taught me how to be charming. It's not to hard to start, it's keeping it up that's the hard part. Dad has to do this a lot...you make the person you want to charm feel important. Humans love to feel important. I'm sure you knew this already, but Ms. Mackleroy is a good example. She seems like a very sweet lady at heart, but you did notice that she hardly gave me any time to eat."

"Yes, that was very rude of her," he replied. "I am...pleased you caught on to my plan to rescue you from her interrogation."

"I wouldn't call it _rude_, per say...more like ignorant. She was so caught up in finding out why you brought me here that she forgot it was dinnertime."

"She seemed genuinely interested in you."

I nodded. "Yes, she was...because she wants to know what kind of woman you brought to this occasion. Forgive me if this offends you, but you don't seem the type of man to bring a woman to these events. From what the senator said, you usually come alone, or with an aide. Am I wrong?"

He blinked slowly, raising an eyebrow at me. "You are the first woman I've brought to an event like this...or at least a woman who was not my aide at the time. And even then, when she accompanied me, it was usually with several other aides. I have never brought one woman to these dinners, and never a human."

For a few seconds, I felt unreasonably pleased with myself, before a strange sort of terror gripped me. I swallowed and smiled softly, deciding to drive home my point.

"So it's no wonder they want to know who I am. What kind of woman gets to be the first female companion to the famous Ambassador Soval?"

"Infamous, perhaps...did you enjoy your meal?"

"Oh, yes, it was very good." I snapped my fingers, remembering what I had wanted to ask him. "So...you don't like chocolate cake? Do you not like dessert?"

He raised a wry eyebrow. "I'm sure you find that ludicrous."

"Not really. Max doesn't like cake either. Or really any dessert, for that matter."

Soval's eyebrow rose towards his hairline. "Interesting...in any case, I prefer fruit. Vulcans are not as good as humans when it comes to processing that much sugar. It does not do well for us."

"It doesn't do well for humans either, but occasional indulgences never hurt anyone. However, I haven't had dessert since I moved to the Consulate, and I do admit freely that it's done wonders for me."

He seemed to brighten. "In what way?"

"Everything you cook is nutritious. I may not always like you, but I've never turned down anything you cook. And to get away from you, I have to go run a few miles. So win-win for me. I guess win-win for you to, having some peace and quiet." I winked. "What I'm saying is that I'm probably the healthiest that I've been in years, living with you. I do appreciate your healthy habits."

Despite my ham-handed attempt at humor, and my compliment to his lifestyle, he sighed. "One day, I hope you will realize that I do not find your company intolerable, Ms. Forrest."

"I think you can be quite the companion when you try," I assured him. "I was joking...I know we've come to at least tolerate each other, which is a good start, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, it is a start."

I smiled brightly at him and leaned forward, giving him three very light pats on his knee. He looked down at my hand as if he couldn't quite believe I was touching him, and I quickly withdrew my hand to rest in my lap. "I can't tell you how happy I am that we've come to that understanding, ambassador," I murmured, keeping my voice low, our exchange private. "I'd rather be your friend than a pain in your neck. I'd rather we get along."

"You were never a pain in my neck. That is illogical...but I understand your colloquialism," he stated before I could protest. "You were never a pain." His eyes seemed to soften, and I smiled in relief. Well, at least I wasn't a nuisance.

"I am not a pain to you, am I?" he asked tentatively. I snorted with laughter, smiling gleefully at him.

"Oh, my dear ambassador...you're insufferable sometimes, but you're not a pain." I leaned further forward. "I hope you realize that although we have our differences, it doesn't mean we can't cooperate. Don't you agree?"

His eyes brightened. "_We have differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of our parts_," he breathed, and I smiled.

"Exactly."

He looked immensely pleased with himself and leaned back in his chair, and I followed suit, taking a long drink of my water. I raised my glass to him.

"Here's to mutual understanding, ambassador."

He raised his own glass, and I took another drink, smirking at him over the rim.

We stayed at the dinner for another forty-five minutes, which mostly consisted of Soval mingling with the other guests, schmoozing, as Dad called it. Apparently, Vulcan had given Earth's science institutes some new technology to play with, and the big brass were thanking Soval profusely for his planet's generosity.

"This is a time of change for Vulcan," the ambassador explained, I guess as a way of saying 'you're welcome'. "New policies are being pushed by the High Command, and Earth will benefit from some of them."

As the admirals expounded upon the new and wonderful things Earth would be doing with Vulcan's gift, I excused myself to go to the restroom, and McCabe flagged down his butler to show me to the nearest bathroom in the expansive mansion. Luckily, there was one just down the hallway from the back door, and I thanked the man for guiding me before slipping inside.

On my way back, I slowed my pace a bit, admiring the rich furnishings around me. A door was ajar up ahead on my left, the last door before the back entrance. A little shaft of light cut the dark carpeted floor, and I heard a quiet conversation, not whispered, but separate from the party. Obviously, the two men in the room on the left wanted privacy, and I tried to hurry past.

"–50 million credits, and more to come, the donor says," one said, a man with a deep, rich voice. His companion whistled in amazement, and I kept on, trying to ignore their conversation.

"The oddest part," this voice continued, "I asked Shelby to run a Level 5 security scan on the transmission...didn't want this to be some kid in a basement trying to hack us." The other man snorted derisively. "The oddest part is that the transmission came from off-world."

Suddenly I found myself slowing and taking one step back towards the door, putting my hand up against the wall so I could adjust my heels.

"Off-world?" the second man repeated. I pricked my ears. "Did Shelby say exactly where?"

"The bigger and better brass assure me its from legitimate sources, but they won't say exactly where. The donor wishes to remain anonymous. So 50 million credits towards infrastructure and educational grants, courtesy of who-knows-who."

"Here's to who-knows-who...and here's hoping this isn't a hoax." The two clinked their glasses, and I blinked, then hurried back to the gathering outdoors.

I felt bad for eavesdropping, but it wasn't as if that information was extremely confidential. I hadn't overheard a plot to kill anyone, or declare war with another planet...it was just some generous donor out in the big wide galaxy giving some money to Earth. But then...that didn't sound right. Who in the blue blazes would simply dump a bunch of money into Earth's government, who wasn't from Earth themselves? The way those two had spoken, I suspected it wasn't some colonist who struck it rich, or a wealthy merchant giving back to his people. No...an alien world, or some alien individual had given Earth that money...but why?

Denobulans were almost infamous for their cheerful, buoyant personalities, but why would they simply throw money at my homeworld? The Confederacy of Centauri Alpha? Highly unlikely. And a potential enemy would never just fork over money towards Earth's infrastructure and education.

Vulcan was the only other option I could think of, and I stared thoughtfully at the back of Soval's head as he continued his conversation with the science senator (their discussion had turned to matters I had no experience with, so I zoned out in favor of my own thoughts). Vulcan had gifted Earth with technology and some superior medicines, and a mysterious donor had given Earth's government 50 million credits towards infrastructure and education. Were these one in the same? Come to think of it, this exchange seemed far too buddy-buddy for the Vulcan High Command, and yet at least 500 humans had been shipped off to Vulcan to participate in the program, or at least that's what my dad had reported.

So why the sudden friendliness with Earth? This seemed so unusual for Vulcan, so out of left field that there had to be ulterior motive. Or maybe the Vulcans were more alien than we thought, and we had passed some "friendship test" of theirs, so now we were worthy of their companionship (and their technology and medicine). I didn't have the answers, and I knew Soval wouldn't be giving me any answers either.

I pushed these questions to the back of mind as Soval turned to acknowledge me, and he sighed, glancing out over the heads of the crowd, perhaps searching for someone he had missed.

"I believe I have socialized enough," he murmured to me. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Whenever you are."

He nodded. "Then let us depart."

We made the rounds one last time, saying goodbye to everyone, and Senator McCabe walked us to the front door.

"It was such a pleasure to have both of you here," he said with a smile. "I do hope you bring her back to the Gala in December, ambassador. There will be more people there who will want to make her acquaintance."

"As I have said, if her schedule permits it and she is willing, I will bring her. Good evening, senator, and thank you for the meal."

"It was delicious," I chimed in with a lazy smile. It was getting late and I was dying to get out of my heels. "My compliments to the chef."

The tedium of parting was cut short by another pair who were bowing out early, and McCabe kissed my hand one last time before turning to the other guests, allowing us leave to depart.

The night air made me shiver, and I stared up at the clear sky above McCabe's mansion, or at least what few stars I could see. The lights of the San Francisco Metropolitan area made most of the horizon glow orange, leaving little room for distant suns to shine through the atmosphere. Soval seemed to note my gaze and stared up at the sky with me, perhaps confused as to why I was taking a sudden interest in the heavens.

As we walked towards the end of the drive where a Vulcan aircar was waiting for us, I contemplated the information buzzing in my brain, made all the more surreal by the cold wind and the silent stars above us. It struck me then how strange and out-of-place I felt walking away from that mansion, walking away from my first outing as a companion to a dignitary, as a companion to anyone. And yet it was all so real, as present as the strong breeze that whipped past my reddening cheeks, and I sighed, turning to my bemused comrade.

"How did I do?" I asked, confident I was out of earshot of the couple who had just left McCabe's presence.

"You did well." He opened the door for me and gestured for me to enter first, and then slid in behind me. The chauffeur lifted us off as soon as the door was shut. "Though I'm sure you knew that."

"Never hurts to ask. Was it worth it bringing me along?"

"What do you mean?"

I flashed him a mischievous smile. "Did I relieve the tedium of fraternizing with all those uppercrust?"

"You did," he assured me. "I've half a mind to do as the senator suggests and bring you to the Gala in December."

"When is it?"

"It usually falls around the second weekend of the month."

I tried to bring up my schedule in my mind's eye. "I should be done with finals by then...we'll just have to see."

"I should warn you...the Gala is much longer and much more crowded than this gathering–"

"– I figured," I muttered. He nodded and continued.

"There is a meal, but there is also toasting and speeches and dancing. You are sure you wish to attend?"

"I'm not sure of anything. I'm just letting you know I'm not entirely adverse to the idea, if you want to take me along to relieve the tedium again. I don't know about you, but I rather enjoyed our conversation tonight."

His eyes softened. "As did I. Your presence at the Gala would..." He trailed off, clearing his throat. "As you said, we will see."

I opened my mouth to question him, but decided it was ultimately pointless, considering I didn't even know if I would be going to the Gala. We would cross that bridge when we came to it, and I leaned back in the seat as we sailed over the Bay.

"In any case...Hester will be thrilled to see the gardens...and no amount of Ms. Mackleroy's questioning is going to ruin that for me."


	8. The First Article

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to DarkPrincesa for reviewing.**_

"_But the most surprising guest at this affair was none other than Ambassador Soval of Vulcan. _Unnecessary ellipsis after the sentence...after every sentence..._Instead of the usual phalanx of aides _– bonus points for using 'phalanx' in a sentence – _he was accompanied by a young, twenty-something socialite, later identified as the daughter of Admiral Maxwell Forrest, who is currently employed with Starfleet Command and a notable advocate for a closer alliance with Vulcan _– ok, first off, I'm not a 'socialite', Miss Slicker, ten seconds on the 'net would have told you that. And I think you're missing an _is_...I would have put an _is_ in that last sentence. And who are you saying is employed with Starfleet? I'm deducting points for that."

I scrolled down to the next paragraph. "_Ms. Genevieve Forrest was shown around the social scene, the Vulcan ambassador brooding in the background as she stole his spotlight _– ok, seriously, what the hell?"

My incredulity dissolved into laughter, and I looked up at the two other men in the room for affirmation that this was so bad no one could ever take it seriously. Soval looked dour, but Timok looked amused. I cleared my throat and continued.

"_As she stole his spotlight _dot dot dot..._despite distracting several senators with her charming smile and good looks, Ms. Forrest spent the rest of the night staunchly at the ambassador's side, the couple trading barbs and witty banter throughout dinner _– oh, look, Soval, she thinks we're witty – _and our young socialite _– I am not a socialite, damn it, I'm a graduate student! Do your research, woman! – _flirted _shamelessly_ with Soval, leaning into the space between them, devouring his every word._"

I shouldn't have raised my expectations so high as to anticipate a thoughtful news story.

"She goes on and asks all the usual trite questions: are we intimate? Perhaps we got married on Vulcan. Perhaps I'm _carrying your child_." I let out a soft snort of laughter before sobering and laying a limp wrist against my forehead. "Oh, Soval, what scandal we've caused! Daring outdated social norms, appearing in public together to...dare I say it...socialize! Whatever shall we do?"

I tossed the PADD onto the table, and Soval picked up the article and quickly scanned it.

"She does seem to make several presumptions about our...relationship," he said after a minute. He flared his nostrils and shook his head as he handed the article to Timok. "She would have known if you were carrying my child...though I do not recall being introduced to this Stacey Slicker."

"Probably a pen name, or else one of the other guests blabbed to her," I mused, and Timok raised his eyebrow.

"I find it most fascinating that she interpreted your body language as a prelude to mating, Genevieve." I glared at the old man, but he pressed on. "You were not forward with the ambassador, were you?"

I narrowed my eyes, snorting in frustration. "In retrospect, the way I spoke to him could be construed as flirtatious by the casual observer, but who can blame me for talking to him all night? He was the most interesting thing about that party! And for the record, I spent most of dinner being interrogated by one Ms. Pollyanna Mackleroy."

I dared a glance at the ambassador to gauge his reaction, and his eyes had grown dark, a look on his face that might have suggested he was pleased with himself, but he hid himself well, blinking once and raising an eyebrow at me in response to my compliment.

Timok, on the other hand, looked pensive, his gaze flicking suspiciously between me and Soval before it finally rested on his fellow Vulcan. "Was it worth it to take her with you?" he asked him in a quiet voice, and before Soval could answer, I jumped in.

"Why not? No harm done...no sensible person will care about that article, and I certainly won't waste my time on those who will. I think Soval will agree with me on that."

The ambassador nodded once. "She was pleasant company, Timok. Would either of you care for a game of _kal-toh_?"

"I'll play you," I volunteered when the elder Vulcan shook his head. "Timok, are you staying or going?"

"I will stay and watch your match."

"My money's on the Vulcan." I smirked at the elder man, but forced myself to concentrate on the jumble of sticks in front of me. _Sewing the seeds of order in the midst of profound chaos_, Soval had described it, and it was by far the most interesting and difficult game I had come across, besides cards. Poker and blackjack and the like didn't go well for me, but at least here there was one rule and nothing left to chance.

"That attitude is unproductive," Soval argued, allowing me to go first. "If we were indeed taking bets on who would win, and you bet on me, I would assume you would deliberately lose the game in order to win the bet, and thus you will have failed to grasp the ultimate use of this game."

"To sharpen one's mind and hone one's logic," I answered as Timok opened his mouth. "I was referring to your undefeated streak of, what, twenty-three to zero?"

"We have played twenty-five games of _kal-toh _since your father's birthday party, Genevieve. And yes, I have beaten you every time." (Timok had an extra game in his closet that he rarely played anymore, and until our new set arrived from Vulcan, we were making do with a second-hand game; Vulcan technology held up surprisingly well, considering this particular set was almost as old as Timok.)

I gesticulated as if to say 'see my point', and I slid my stick into a gap on the left side of the jumble. To no one's surprise, no order was sewn, only a more complicated jumble. "So when I say my money's on you, I'm not actually saying we have a bet going where I let you win. What I'm saying is that I'm probably going to lose, which given the evidence we have, isn't so implausible. However...I am determined to best you at least once before this exchange is over. Somehow, someway...I will beat you, ambassador. Your turn."

I thought I saw a smirk twist his lips, and I chewed my lip and watched his move. "I do appreciate a more enthusiastic partner rather than one who lets me win," he said, something buoyant in his voice that made him sound cocky. "Your enthusiasm is inspiring...but beating me is no easy task."

My gaze met his again, and I raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, my dear ambassador?"

I had thought a smirk was twisting his lips, but now I was sure. "Consider yourself challenged. I will not make it easy for you."

"That will simply make my victory all the more sweet. One day, when you least expect it, you will think you are safe and your victory is sure, but then I will swoop in and best you at your own game. One day...you just wait."

Soval's eyes were dark as coffee, and the look he gave me almost made me squirm. He had finally made his move, causing a small corner of the jumble to turn into a hexagon. "Your turn, Genevieve," he said, and was it just me, or did his voice get deeper?

I had almost forgotten that Timok was in the room with us, and I suddenly, stupidly wished he wasn't there. I felt a pressing need to change the subject and keep the conversation going, so I turned to the elderly Vulcan (whose gaze was fixed on me, pensive, almost uncertain) and posed a question:

"Are you ready for Hester's visit tomorrow?"

"I have been studying out of the catalog Soval procured for me. I am prepared to give her a thorough tour."

"Are you ready for rapid-fire questions?"

"Yes."

"Uncontrollable excitement?"

"Genevieve, what does–"

"She's a young woman working to become a landscape architect, who has been given the opportunity to ogle alien plants. She will be very excited by the time she gets here, and she will savor every moment in that garden...I just want you to be prepared."

"I assure you," Timok said quietly, "I am well prepared to give your cousin a tour and answer her questions."

"That's all I wanted to know," I replied.

Another two rounds had passed during my ham-handed attempt to divert the conversation, and it was my turn again. I made a quick judgment and hastily placed my stick in the middle of a semi-circular arc of rods, and I laughed as two rods morphed into a triangle.

"Ha!" I exclaimed. "Finally getting somewhere."

Yet, despite my best efforts, the score became 26-0, not that I had expected to win. I was getting better, and was even able to make three triangles appear, but Soval still had the upper hand, and he used it mercilessly. I was starting to think he enjoyed watching me lose, but perhaps it was simply as Timok always said: he was entertained by my frustration and found some pleasure in arguing with me, and winning victories against me.

The old man left shortly after, as he didn't feel up to staying for dinner, so I was once again alone with Soval. The ambassador started on dinner while I did some reading for class, and I got the feeling that he was dying to say something to me (he kept glancing over at me). I caught his eye when he turned around and raised my eyebrow in silent question.

"You wanted to say something?" I asked carefully. He narrowed his eyes, then sighed.

"That...Stacey Slicker woman...I find it agreeable for you to gain some recognition in higher circles. I assure you, I was not...sulking."

"Oh, ambassador," I muttered, shaking my head. "I know that. She's as hackneyed and trite as a teenager's diary." I rolled my eyes rather than say what I was thinking, then winked conspiratorially at him to drive my point home. "That woman has nothing better to write about, and it's just sad."

He nodded curtly and turned back to dinner, and I got back to work.

…

The next morning I awoke refreshed and excited. Something about my cousin's enthusiasm for this visit was rubbing off on me, and I greeted my roommate with a bright smile and cheery "good morning" once I was dressed, and gave him a hearty pat on the back when he handed me a bowl of _plomeek _broth, his breakfast of choice. I sipped the rich, golden liquid and sent Hester a message, telling her to be ready for me to pick her up in two hours.

She replied promptly, confirming our plans, and I sipped at my _plomeek _and set aside my PADDs and textbooks. Today, I decided, I would relax and enjoy a day of nothing. I wouldn't even go out running, unless my roommate proved completely intolerable.

"So what are your plans for today?" I asked as he finished his own bowl of broth.

"I will be leaving shortly to compose a notice for my staff regarding your cousin's visit."

I frowned. "Why? What's there to say? A smelly human will be visiting the gardens today, avoid at all costs?"

"I will inform them that the gardens are off-limits for the duration of Ms. Forrest's tour, yes."

Shaking my head at him, I double-checked the time and typed in Hester's dorm address, looking for a quick route from here to her college. "We're that obnoxious?"

"Obnoxious, Ms. Forrest? I do not understand."

"You don't want us here because we're loud and annoying and we disturb the carefully maintained peace of the Consulate," I said, my good mood dissipating. "But then I wonder why I'm here, as I'm just as loud and annoying as any other human. Sometimes I think you got the short end of the stick."

His expression contorted from confusion to an ugly scowl, and his eyes darkened to deep wells, dark as coffee. I wasn't sure what the dilation of his pupils meant, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever know.

"You will cease insulting yourself," he grumbled, his voice like gravel under a rolling bulldozer. "I do not appreciate it, and I do not wish to listen to it at this time, or any time."

A snort of derision escaped my nose. "I can call myself whatever the hell I want. If I want to say I'm a stupid, fat, ugly little–"

His sudden movement made me stop for a moment, and I stared up at him with narrowed eyes. "If I want to say that I'm stupid and fat and ugly–"

And then his face was two inches from mine, his imposing frame towering over me in my chair.

"You will stop," he said quietly, dangerously, and I swallowed thickly. My thoughts went immediately to Hester and how my behavior now could change his mind about her visit (even though technically we made a deal and I wouldn't be impressed if he went back out on it now). Perhaps it wasn't the best time to push his buttons (who knew Soval had buttons to push?), and yet I couldn't let go of my mood just now. I stared unblinkingly at him, matching his scowl.

"It's my mouth," I said, also matching his volume. "I can say whatever I want about myself."

He did not blink for what felt like forever as he stared at me, and the intense hardness around his eyes did not help my mood. He straightened, breaking his gaze, and I calmly sipped at my broth as I awaited his next move.

"It displeases me that you think so low of yourself. You often claim to have average looks, or even less than average looks, yet immediately take back your statement when I take notice of it. You cannot believe both statements, Ms. Forrest. Either you do not believe you are beautiful, or else you are purposefully confounding me. I do not understand."

"The truth will out, ambassador," I whispered. "You have told me a few times that I'm pretty, yet treat me and, by extension, my friends as if we're the smelly, ugly, obnoxious humans I claim us to be. You can't believe both. You think I'm everything I say I am, but you're probably not saying so to spare my feelings. But I know the truth. You don't like me, and that's ok."

In truth, I wasn't sure what his opinion of me truly was. I didn't think he considered me ugly or obnoxious, but why was he so opposed to another human in his Consulate? I wasn't exactly quiet and demure, and it wasn't my habit to be reserved like he was. Hester, on the other hand, preferred the quiet solace of the outdoors, of books about nature, and if anyone would be a proper visitor to his space, it was my cousin. But I thought, perhaps foolishly, that pretending to assume he thought us obnoxious would reveal the truth: either he truly found us obnoxious and annoying, or he was more indecisive than anyone I had ever met, or else (and this wouldn't surprise me) he was hiding something.

I pulled my attention away from my musings as his expression darkened again. "Genevieve..." he growled.

"So thank you for breakfast, but if you'll excuse me, I need to pick up the other noisy human who will apparently give your staff a headache today. You might as well enjoy the quiet while you can, because I'll be back again this evening, stinking up your quarters with my awful–"

Suddenly his hand was on my chin, gripping me tightly, the pressure almost uncomfortable. I had forgotten how odd his touch felt and how it affected me, but it all came rushing back as my thought processes slowed. Unlike the last time he had done this, it wasn't just my fingertips and my lower back that started tingling. Every inch of my neck and jawline felt warm and sensitive, and I could feel the sensation spreading from my fingertips to my palms and my wrists. My jaw went slack and my lips parted of their own accord.

"You think this approach will reveal my honest opinion?" he whispered, and my eyes locked onto his. They were almost black, his pupils deep, intense wells; I couldn't quite read his expression beyond irritation, but somehow I knew there was a lot more there than I realized.

I breathed in sharply as he adjusted his grip. "I've already told you my opinion. It hasn't changed, and it is illogical to lie. If I thought your looks lacking, I would have never brought it up."

I couldn't, for the life of me, tear my eyes from his. I wasn't sure if he knew some Vulcan hypnosis or alien trance, but I felt like I had to stay still and stare into his eyes, as if there were no other option than to hold his gaze.

And then it occurred to me that I should probably start apologizing. "I'm sorry," I murmured. "I didn't mean to be rude...you just don't seem to have consistent behavior. You say one thing and act the complete opposite."

"Then I will seek to rectify that," he promised, and his thumb shifted over my chin. My sharp intake of breath finally broke his gaze as his eyes flicked down to my mouth, and then I was free. The heat on my neck faded as he sat back down, but the tingling sensation in my fingertips and lower back remained.

I wanted an explanation for why my fingertips were aching and my kneecaps felt like jelly, but acknowledgment of the sensations made another wave of heat rush down my core. I felt a sudden warmth between my legs, and my heart started pounding in shame. Why was my body betraying me like this? Soval had shown he could be a good conversationalist and was capable of reasonable compromises, but he was diplomat. That was his life's work, to excel at conversation and make deals. I didn't think he had much else to attract a woman, but my fingertips still tingled, and to my shame (another wave of heat hit me with just the thought of it), I rather liked the ache of it all. My breathing wasn't as even as it should be, and I realized I could detect the lingering scent of the detergent used in his clothes. And that made every sensation plaguing me much worse.

His eyes were focused on his PADD (he was probably busy composing that memo to his staff), but when I shifted in my seat, his gaze found mine again. My stomach twisted and I felt hot all over, and my cheeks flushed red as his brows furrowed in concern.

"Are you unwell, Ms. Forrest?"

"No, I'm fine," I said quickly. His eyes lingered on me, cutting me to my core, and then they were back on his PADD. He continued with his work, and I drank my broth as quickly as I could without burning my tongue. I quickly set my bowl in the sink and thanked him again for breakfast, and once I had my keys and my helmet, I rushed out of the door and down to the parking garage.

Once I was astride my motorcycle and certain I was alone (I didn't think Soval or any of his staff were going anywhere that day), I paused and examined what the heck had happened to me. When I woke up this morning, the thought of Soval touching me didn't really affect me in any way, good or bad. It would have struck me as simply awkward. But I had seen for myself: he had only gripped my chin, and suddenly I melted into a hot mess. Though his fingers did feel incredibly good on my skin. I wondered what his fingers would feel like stroking my thighs, or going even further up to my–

_Bad Genevieve! _I berated myself. _Vulcans don't do that sort of thing, and if you keep this up, you're only going to get your heart broken. Forget about it._

I swallowed around the lump in my throat as I re-checked my route, and I left the seeds of the worst crush ever in the dust where they belonged.

_**A/N: So...not to sound like a review whore or anything, but not a lot of reviews for the last chapter. I see reviews as a gauge of audience interest, and if you hit me with a good suggestion, I usually take those into account. I feel like you guys are losing interest in the story. Is that true?**_


	9. Hester's Visit

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thanks for all the reviews.**_

I zipped my motorcycle into the parking garage and pulled into the little corner I had been assigned. My bike looked small next to the sleek black aircars that the ambassador had on hand, but its size allowed me to park as far away from the other vehicles as the space would allow. The garage was a spacious room, with rusty red concrete floors and walls, and one wall had even been gussied up with a mural of what I assumed was the Vulcan desert.

Hester immediately whipped off her helmet and started taking pictures of the mural and the garage, and even snapped a photo of the aircars for my uncle to gawk at. She had braided her mouse-brown hair into pigtails for this occasion, and had donned a modest, feminine blouse, even nicer than her usual girly attire. She handed over her helmet and shifted from foot to foot as I set them on my bike.

"Don't you think you should take those with you?" she asked. I shook my head.

"Vulcans don't steal. They'll be just fine, and like you saw, you have to have an access card to get in here." I jingled my keyring to accentuate my point. Footsteps disrupted my train of thought, and I smiled when I saw Timok striding towards us, his robes billowing behind him; he cut an impressive figure, and I could tell that Hester was put off by this. She flushed as soon as she saw him and adjusted the hem of her sweater, clutching her notepads to her chest with a death grip.

Timok slowed his pace as he approached us. "No need to be frightened, my dear," he said with the barest hint of a smirk. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his. "Welcome to the Vulcan Consulate."

As when he first met me, he held out his withered hand for her to take, and she smiled as she shook it, nervously tucking a stray strand of hair out of her face when she let go. "Thank you so much for letting me come," she muttered, biting her lip as the nerves took back over. "I really appreciate it, and I promise I won't make any trouble."

"I know that, Hester Forrest," the old man replied. "Come, the garden awaits. Though I can show you a few notable rooms along the way if you like."

I frowned. "I thought Soval was restricting her visit to the garden."

"Your people have a saying...what he doesn't know won't hurt him." He raised an eyebrow at me, then commenced the tour. "As you have already noticed, this is the parking garage. The main Consulate is through here."

I smirked at Hester and put my arm around her as we followed Timok through the doors, leaving the cool stone garage behind. The hallway we entered was warm and dry, and lined with tapestries, the same as on the fifth floor. I hadn't spent much time on the first, second or third floors where the offices were kept, and this excited me as much as it excited Hester. Although Soval didn't want her to be a nuisance, it felt so good to be a rebel for a little while and break his rules, even in a small way. I knew my cousin better than he ever could, I knew the most his staff would see of her was a shy smile and halfhearted wave. How that was a distraction was beyond me.

In fact, we hardly saw anyone as we made our way through the Consulate. The Vulcans in the offices gave us a polite nod and immediately went back to work, and no one spoke to us except Timok.

And yet, as we got closer to the garden, we briefly looked into the infirmary, and I swore I could feel eyes on me. I turned around to find the source of the sensation, and two Vulcan men were just coming out of one of the offices, speaking in low tones to each other. They saw us, then kept their gaze straight ahead, but I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes following us until we were outside in the garden.

Hester squealed under her breath and eagerly followed Timok to the shaded plants nearest to the building, and she took copious notes as he spouted information on his homeworld's flora.

The gardens were surprisingly lush for Vulcan tastes (I had seen pictures of what most Vulcan gardens looked like, more in line with a bonsai garden then the Hanging Gardens of Babylon), and I ascribed the overflowing plant boxes to the environment. Here, the plants had more water to soak up, and they seemed to flourish in the moist, cooler air. Though I did spy some heat lamps spaced evenly on the walls surrounding us.

The outer rim sported plants that preferred shade over sunlight, and three more inner circles supplied space for more sun-loving flora. Flowers of different hues bloomed in some plant boxes, and I saw several species of evergreen, some from Earth, and a few that did not look native to this planet; all of them were trimmed into bonsai height. Perhaps the bright orange hue gave their alien origins away, though I supposed with that color they could hardly be called evergreen. But they looked like small Douglas firs to me.

Taller trees were housed plant boxes large enough to accommodate their height, and (I'm not sure why it amused me so much, but it did) I noticed the majority of the trees were of the palm variety. Strange that a tropical tree could grow so well in San Francisco, but maybe it was the heat combined with the moisture. Well-maintained mimosas peaked out a few corners, along with trumpet vines and ivy and several other climbing vines that again looked rather alien. In the very back of the garden, I could have sworn I saw several species of fungi and lichen decorating some spare logs and boulders. And in the middle of the garden, to top it all off, splashed a large fountain, complete with seating around the edge.

I sat down on a nearby bench and watched Timok and Hester make their rounds, the latter scribbling away on her notepad, and I chanced a few glances back towards the building. I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. My irritation with Soval over this ordeal waxed and waned, and I sighed, longing to let it all go, but holding a grudge felt good for the moment.

It wasn't as if Hester was a distraction at all. Soval didn't know the definition of distraction if he thought Hester would have made that much of a commotion. A distraction was a two-year-old banging on pots and pans, and I had the strongest urge to find a child and let them loose in the Consulate hallways. But Hester...she was a mild curiosity at best.

Another thing that made his indignation seem more like stubbornness was the fact that the Consulate had hosted human employees before, and no one complained about them. If fifteen or so humans could go about their business without disturbing anyone, why was one human such a big deal?

_Let it go, _I told myself. _Just let it go. The important thing is that Hester is here, and she's happy, and she's learning loads. How she got here doesn't matter anymore._

I breathed out, closing my eyes as I clenched and unclenched my fists. _Let it all go._

"Genie!" my cousin called to me. "Come look at this!"

I smiled at her and hopped off my bench, telling myself that my problems over visitation were under that bench, and I wasn't picking them up again.

…

"Did Ms. Forrest find her visit agreeable?" Soval said, half an hour after I got back from dropping my cousin off at her dorm. "I trust Timok was an acceptable guide."

"Yeah," I said with a shrug. "Yeah, I think she liked it."

We fell back into silence, and I drummed my fingers absentmindedly on the table. I had blatantly refused to think about what he had done this morning, and I was to the point of writing it off as some bizarre dream. I was just lonely, sexually frustrated, and projecting some crazy fantasy onto the ambassador, because I hadn't been touched like that in ages. Ok, no one could replicate that strange tingling that shot through me when he grasped my chin...

I cursed myself as chills crawled down my spine again, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, staring resolutely at the PADD in front of me. I was reviewing my syllabus for the next week, attempting to concentrate on my work, but the moment Soval took in a deep breath, as if he were about to speak, I glanced up at him with eager eyes. _Damn you, Forrest. Get a grip on yourself._

When my eyes met his, he closed his parted lips and swallowed, and I blinked, waiting for him to speak.

"My staff did not bother you?" he asked, his voice faltering ever so slightly, though I got the impression he was trying to sound collected and casual. And weirdly, I thought it was adorable. _Damn you, Forrest!_

"No, they didn't," I replied calmly. "Though I thought your issue was that Hester would bother _them_."

As I waited for an explanation, I noticed his eyes got darker, and his posture stiffened as he straightened himself. "I only wish to foster a good relationship between my staff and any visitors, and make sure my staff is given a quiet, peaceful work environment."

"Which Hester did not disturb in any conceivable fashion," I countered. "As for your staff, I saw nary a hair on their Vulcan heads, so you can stop worrying. No one was bothered today, not your staff, not Hester, not Timok. Though, this entire 'fiasco' of a visit got me thinking, and I have a question..."

I noted his throat contracting in another swallow. "Proceed."

"Maybe I shouldn't ask it. I probably won't like the answer."

He frowned at me and shifted in his seat. "I would rather you be informed. What is your question?"

"Am I, and by extension Hester...an inconvenience to you?"

Soval visibly relaxed and blinked slowly, then raised an elegantly slanted eyebrow at me. "How did you come to that conclusion, Ms. Forrest? I would be fascinated to hear your logic."

I frowned. "Well...are we?"

"No," he said firmly. "You are not an inconvenience. What would make you say such a thing?"

"I was just curious...you know...I feel like this visit was a huge pain in your neck, and it was such a nuisance and a hassle to let one human come inside your Consulate. It doesn't match up with your previous policies, it makes my continued presence here awkward, and I'm just confused. I'll give you this, ambassador, you know how to keep me guessing."

His neutral expression twisted into a grimace before he righted himself. "Hester's visit was unique, and I will admit, it was...not easy to convince my staff that my handling of this matter was for the best."

"Wait, your own staff didn't like your decision?" I realized aloud. He sighed.

"Some protested, using your exact arguments. But again, I assert that her visit was a unique situation, and had to be treated delicately."

"And you're not going to tell me why."

"That is confidential."

"All right," I conceded. "Let's just drop the subject. Hester came, she had fun, she learned loads, and that's all that matters." I spoke mostly to myself in that moment, breathing out a slow breath and urging myself to be reasonable. I wasn't privy to Vulcan business, and there was no problem with that. It wasn't my concern, and I wouldn't make it my concern. Hester's visit was over, and there was no reason to dwell on this any longer.

My eyes were fixed on my PADD as I conceded to him, but I could still feel his eyes on me, and I glanced up at him. His warm brown eyes stared unfaltering at me, and I swallowed thickly.

"Well, that _is_ all that matters in the end, right? No harm, no foul! No one was disturbed, Hester got her botany lesson...am I wrong here?"

He blinked. "No, you are correct." He paused for a moment, perhaps choosing his words with care. I stiffened my posture on instinct, bracing myself for whatever argument he brought up next. "I am...pleased that Ms. Forrest's education was furthered today, Genevieve. And...I thank you for not pressing me further on this matter."

"Hey," I said with a snort, raising my hands up in surrender. "I know there are lines you don't cross, and I'm sorry I stepped on yours. I'll try not to do it again. I just don't like the thought of anyone finding my sweet little cousin a nuisance."

"She is not a nuisance," he assured me gently. "My reasons for approaching this matter as I did–"

" –were logical and well thought out...ambassador, you don't have to explain yourself to me. Let's just move on. For both our sakes."

He seemed satisfied with that answer. I smiled at him as an offering of goodwill, and he stared at me a moment longer than was technically necessary, and I thought I saw the hint of a smile turn his lips upward. He turned his attention back to his PADD.

Several minutes passed in contented silence, until he spoke again. "Earth's government has called for the Vulcan Consulate to host a press conference." He swallowed, and I tilted my head in interest. "It pertains to your situation, and if you want to attend, I could arrange that."

"A press conference..." I mused. "When is it?"

"This coming Wednesday." He glanced up at me, then back to his reading. "Were you thinking of watching it on the newsfeeds?"

"I don't know...what time is it scheduled?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "It is scheduled for 1500 hours."

"Can you tell me more about what you'll be talking about?"

"Most certainly," he said softly, his brown eyes catching mine again. "Surely you recall my conversation with the senators, regarding the High Command's new policies?"

"Yes, though most of that went straight over my head."

He frowned, and I quickly realized he didn't understand that particular expression. I smirked before answering. "I didn't understand most of it," I rephrased, and he nodded, and I could have swore he was hiding a smile.

"In any case," he continued, "I will be explaining in more detail the terms of these new policies. Perhaps you did not see my previous press conference at the beginning of August, but on Wednesday I will answer more detailed questions, mostly regarding this program. In two months, more of your people will be chosen to be exchange partners, and there is still more technology that we are able to share."

I smirked and leaned back in my chair, drawing up my schedule to write down a reminder. "Have you prepared what you're going to say?"

"Yes, and I am confident it will be received positively."

My smirk widened, and I hastily tucked a stray hair behind my ear. Though my excitement twisted in my stomach as I thought of possible questions the reporters might ask.

"Ambassador," I asked, and then I paused. He blinked. "Do you think they'll ask about me?"

He did not answer for several seconds. "Yes, Genevieve, I think the reporters will ask after you. By now, it will have been made public knowledge that you are in the program, and it is obvious that you are not on Vulcan if you were attending a social gathering with me just last week."

"True," I muttered with a sigh.

"And due to your people's propensity towards gossip," he nodded towards the comm to drive home his point, and I nodded along in unconscious agreement, "I am certain you will be asked after. Rest assured, I will not give specifics regarding your situation. You are residing within the Consulate, meeting daily with me to forward our exchange."

I smirked at how cleverly he was avoiding the juiciest tidbit of information, something the media would be all over if they knew about it: we shared a living space, and were essentially roommates. He made it sound as if I had my own quarters on a different floor and that we met in his office like two professionals, not that there was anything wrong with sharing a home with a Vulcan. I had friends who had arranged to live with a member of the opposite sex for convenience, not because they were in a relationship; what the government had arranged for me was no different, save for the male in question being an alien.

But his deft dodging of the meaty questions made me smile. Cleverness and the ability to properly utilize wordplay were attractive attributes in anyone, and of course an accomplished ambassador would know all about both.

And then I cursed myself and buried the fondness bubbling away in my chest. He was an ambassador, I was a grad student. His age didn't really bother me, but I was certain he would find the idea of a human drooling over him to be disgusting. I wasn't right for him, and there was no point in pursuing anything with him. He would never agree to it.

I sighed and picked up my PADD again, quickly accessing my calender, writing down a reminder regarding his press conference. Even if I was determined to destroy this stupid crush, maybe this new information could answer the questions I dared not ask the ambassador. I would simply have to wait and see.

"I'll probably watch the newsfeeds with Timok. But I'll see what comes up and give you an answer later, ok?"

"That is acceptable," he said, and for the briefest moment, he looked rather pleased with himself. I blinked slowly, clenching my fists in frustration. I should want to smack that smug little expression off his face, but now I thought it was charming, adorable even. I told myself I could kill this crush, bury it and forget it ever happened. Easier said than done.


	10. The Press Conference

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed.**_

_**A/N: Sorry this is late. My sister just had a baby today, and we've also been fighting mites. :P But Happy Dia de los Muertos; here's an update.**_

I woke up early on Wednesday, two hours earlier than my usual rising time of 0700, and I was surprised to see Soval already up and chopping up herbs to put in the pot of _plomeek_ broth bubbling away on the stove. I was dressed in my running clothes, intent on jump-starting my day with an early morning run. I could almost smell the autumn air beyond the window, crisp and cool and tasting ever so slightly of the sea. It was the first week of October, one of my favorite months of the year.

The streets were fairly empty as I took off running down the street; the only people out were gathered at the bus stops and outside the little cafes, their eyes dull and tired as they sipped their morning brew. The thought of a beverage after my run appealed to me, but I continued on down the block, concentrating on my breathing, savoring the cool autumn air.

The weather in the Bay area was often delightfully mild during autumn; a breeze had kicked up in the night, rustling my hair as I slipped into a coffee shop down the street from the Consulate, my chest heaving from my brisk morning jog.

I had never been in here before, but I shelled out a few credits for a pumpkin spice something-or-other and glanced up at the comm above the counter. It was tuned to an early-morning news broadcast, and coincidentally they were discussing Soval's press conference (scheduled for later this afternoon) and the exchange.

"_...the President of the United Nations Council assures everyone assigned to the exchange program that their services to the Vulcan people will save both our species time and money,_" a female reporter said calmly, adjusting the PADDs in front of her."_Nathan Bartlett, who was assigned to a Vulcan school back in August as part of the exchange, says he's been enjoying his teaching experience so far, as his students are the most enthusiastic learners he has ever taught. Here's his comm interview now._"

"Genie?" the barista called, and I tore my eyes from the comm and took the steaming cup of coffee from him, muttering a thank you as I hoisted my running pack over my shoulder.

The walk back to the Consulate wasn't as quiet as my run had been, but the sun was higher over the horizon and traffic was picking up. I had Wednesdays and Fridays off from class, and it was lucky I could make the press conference. And even if I had class today, I was usually off campus by 1330 and back at the Consulate by 1430 at the latest, which would have still given me half an hour to get to the comm in time for the newsfeed.

My coffee steamed in front of my face, the vapor dissipating quickly into the brisk wind. I took an appreciative sip, sighing in contentment, and I turned the corner and waited at the crosswalk for the light to turn. The smell of spices hit my nose as more steam escaped the lid spout, and I took another sip. The coffee was a little hot yet, and I blew into the spout to cool it.

I stopped what I was doing when I heard a gaggle of people behind me, seemingly together as a large group.

"So Macy can call the front desk and ask for an interview. I'm sure the ambassador is up by now," a man carrying a large holorecorder said.

I dared not glance behind me to see who was headed to the Consulate. No doubt they were reporters or paparazzi, and I was surprised they were coming to Sausalito this early in the morning.

"I wish we could set up shop on the sidewalk," one reporter lamented as they stepped up to the curb beside me. "They're touchy on news days."

"Elliot, are you sure he'd even want to do an interview before the press conference?"

"I didn't drag you out here this early just to be turned away. If he doesn't want to do an interview...and I admit, it's a longshot," the first one replied, "we can still get some material from the passerby. Isn't that right, miss?"

I realized belatedly that he was talking to me. I turned to him and raised my eyebrow at his roguish grin. "I am sure the residents of Sausalito would be delighted to give you their opinions," I assured him. Then I turned back around and watched the light.

"And would you be willing to give us a statement, miss? First of the day. You'd be on the news!"

I took a sip of my coffee, then chewed my lip in contemplation. "I'd rather not. I'm not totally awake, you know...if I had to have my opinion broadcasted to the masses, I think I'd like to be functioning at full capacity first. So maybe another time."

The light turned, and I hurried across the sidewalk before he could respond, and I heard them talking to themselves as they followed me. Elliot didn't seem upset about me blowing him off, but as I continued on towards the gate, I could feel his eyes on me.

I pressed the buzzer to the Consulate gate, waiting for one of the security guys to come out and let me in, and as I waited (what was taking them so long today?), I heard the reporters calling out to me.

"What are you doing?" Elliot said, breaking out into a light jog to catch up with me. He seemed to be at a loss for words as I stood there, and I chose not to respond.

"Do you expect them to let you in?" he pressed.

"Yes," I said simply, and I sighed in relief when one of the security guards exited the guardhouse, hurrying to rescue me.

"What's your name?" He almost looked as if he wanted to follow me into the Consulate, but one look at the security guard probably changed his mind. "Are you in the exchange?"

I ignored him and walked quickly across the courtyard, my coffee still steaming as I reached the front door.

Soval had finished making breakfast by the time I returned to our quarters, and I sighed as I took a seat at the table.

"They're already setting up down there. Some of them might be calling for an interview, just so you know."

He raised an eyebrow and set a steaming bowl of _plomeek _before me, and I thanked him. "That is to be expected," he said. "Your media personnel are often quite impatient. They are aware of the press conference, and what time it is scheduled. Why they cannot wait until then still confounds me."

"They want to be the first to get out an article about this exchange. It's not a race, though, it's who does the best report. At least that's how I see it. As if putting out an article a few hours earlier and getting to say you started the buzz about it makes a difference in your life. It's silly."

He sat down with his own bowl of broth and took a thoughtful sip of it. "Did you speak to the reporters?"

"I stopped and got this," I gestured to my coffee, "and they were on their way over here by the time I reached the crosswalk. They asked me for a statement – they'll be doing passerby interviews since they probably won't be getting one with you – and I refused. But then one followed me to the Consulate gate. I ignored him."

Soval frowned. "Did he harass you?"

"No, just asked a bunch of stupid questions I didn't answer. But now they know I can get in here...I guess for all they know, some other news outlet landed an early-morning interview with you, and I'm just the gofer fetching coffee."

He shrugged and took another sip of his broth. "I would advise you to ignore them, should they question you again."

"Ambassador..." I started, slightly exasperated that he would think I wasn't aware of how to handle paparazzi. "Yes, that is very good advice," I finally conceded. It was too nice a day to be getting into an argument, and I thought my tone spoke for itself.

He looked up at me, confused, until his gaze softened and he set down his spoon. "You are a Media and Communications major, are you not?"

"Yes," I replied with a knowing smile. "This isn't my first rodeo. And you forget who my father is."

"Forgive me," he murmured. "You do not discuss your studies with me, and at times, I suppose I forget the extent of your experience."

"It's not that broad, believe me. You have more experience than I do, but I'm not clueless over here."

"I never thought you were," he said in protest. "I meant it as a friendly reminder that one should–"

"– Ambassador."

He stopped and looked up at me, his brown eyes shining with an unreadable expression.

"It's ok. I get it," I murmured, making an effort to make my tone gentle and understanding. Now was not the time to argue; we both had better things to do with our time.

And with one look from his bright brown eyes, my resolve to ignore the stirrings of my highly inappropriate crush was weakened. How could someone his age still look so vulnerable when they blushed? He hastily returned to his breakfast, but he paused to look up at me, and I felt a soft smile touch my lips. It almost looked like he returned it.

_You're digging yourself deeper, Forrest, _the reasonable side of my brain admonished. _Soon there won't be a way out that doesn't involve some serious heartbreak._

…

So it came as no surprise to me that as I curled up on Timok's couch (a fresh cup of tea in my hands), I was ever so slightly uncomfortable. Soval was getting very good at picking up on my more overt emotions and social cues (except, I supposed, these new stirrings from hell), and Timok possessed the same uncanny ability. I wasn't in the mood for his teasing today, so I focused on my tea and waited impatiently for the newscaster to hand it over to the live feed of Soval's press conference, which was taking place three stories below us in the receiving room.

"You are quiet this afternoon," the old man remarked as he sat down on the couch beside me. "Have things improved between you and the ambassador? I should hope you have found some common ground with him by now."

"Things are going all right," I said with a casual shrug. "No major arguments, at least." I kept my face neutral and uncaring as the newscaster blabbed on about a new youth center being built downtown. But I don't think I hid my interest well when she finally turned to the subject matter at hand. My ears perked as my attention spiked and I straightened, my teacup resting in my lap.

"_And now, the United Nations Council called for a press conference from the Vulcan Consulate regarding this new exchange program. Live from Sausalito, here is Ambassador Soval and his report on this unprecedented age of friendship. We'll see you back here at 4 PM for the local weather. This has been your San Francisco News Station, I'm Lisa Menzel, and we hope you have a good afternoon._"

"You too, Lisa," I muttered sardonically, taking a sip of my drink. Timok simply raised an eyebrow.

The screen changed to the official Vulcan logo, and then we were staring at an empty podium, the soft murmur of voices behind the camera the only indication that the receiving room was occupied. But then the ambassador entered the frame, his silver hair reflecting the camera flashes as he took to the podium, staring down at the PADD in his hand with the same neutral expression I was trying to emulate.

And then he looked into the camera, and his warm brown eyes glinted in an unreadable expression as he began.

"_Good afternoon,_" he said calmly, his voice reverberating into the microphone. I settled into the couch cushion and leaned my head against my hand. "_The United Nations Council has asked me to inform Earth's citizens about the details of this exchange. I will make this brief, as I am sure none of us want to be late for dinner."_

The crowd chuckled in appreciation, and I felt a grin push my lips upward. Soval took a deep breath before continuing, his eyes fixed on the camera.

"_This past January, the administrator of the High Command retired, and with the end of his term came a new era of progressive ideals. The current regime does not wish to stay locked in the past, but instead wants to embrace our alliance with the human race. You have confounded us for long enough; it is time for both our peoples to set aside our differences and understand one another._"

He glanced down at his notes, then back to the camera. "_The first barrier to overcome is language. The Vulcan High Command took the initiative by inviting 200 carefully selected men and women to my homeworld. By now, they have been assigned a class of 50 students or more, and given proper accommodations that are befitting the honorable profession of teaching. They will be well-compensated for their services, in addition to receiving free room and board for the year they reside on Vulcan. It is our hope that most of them will agree to stay after their term of service has ended._"

Whispers and soft murmurs erupted at that, but one glance from him silenced the room again. I frowned; I wasn't teaching a class, so where did I fit into all this?

"_And for another 200 carefully selected individuals, we have asked an even greater task: hands-on cultural exchange. These humans are living among my people, helping them to understand cultural nuances that still evade us. Only a month ago, I thought the incredibly visceral sport of American football was a fight to the death. This is a common misconception on my world, spread by faulty observations from a group of Vulcan anthropologists interning here thirty years ago. I have since been, as your people say, set straight on the matter._"

Another appreciative ripple of laughter pulsed through the crowd, and I thought I saw a satisfied smirk touch his lips.

"_These specially selected individuals were asked to concentrate on the finer nuances of your language, cultural barriers we have not overcome, and most importantly, helping the Vulcan people understand the significance of emotion in your day-to-day interactions. We want to understand, and we have been making too many assumptions, too many judgments. It is time to put that aside._

"_But how to reciprocate your generous service?_" He paused again, perhaps for dramatic effect. "_As of now, there are 18 universities on your planet that offer a Vulcan language course, only four of which are in the North American region. The old regime propositioned that our language was too difficult to be taught to younger students, and that it should be a privileged few humans who should have access to that knowledge. Next August, a new policy will be put into place: the Vulcan language will be taught in over 2,000 institutions of secondary education worldwide, along with another 4,000 at the collegiate level. Your children, starting from age 14, will have the opportunity to learn Vulcan. Several of the new professors at the collegiate level will also be offering High Vulcan at select universities. Together, my homeworld will be enriched with the knowledge of Standard English, and your world enriched with my mother tongue._"

The swell of muttering and whispering rose again, but Soval held up his hand, his eyes flashing in what looked like annoyance. However, he took a deep breath and continued, seemingly unperturbed by their interruption.

"_Finally, as a gesture of goodwill between our peoples, the Vulcan High Command has offered several prominent research facilities access to more advanced technologies and medicines. The Inter-species Medical Exchange will grow in numbers, and it is hoped that your people will follow our lead in that regard and encourage enrollment in the IME._"

His gaze grew softer as he looked into the camera. "_I realize that our alliance has not always been as smooth as either party would like, but this initiative will change that. Together, we can become greater than the sum of our parts, and our alliance can bloom into a long-lasting and fulfilling friendship._"

And then he looked down at the crowd and announced he would be taking questions.

The camera pulled back to a wide shot to reveal dozens of hands in the air, and the ambassador called on a reporter in the front.

"_Why the sudden interest in our race?_" she asked, the man beside her taking advantage of Soval's attention to snap several photos. "_What caused this change in policies?_"

"_I believe too many of my fellow Vulcans are frustrated by our ignorance of your culture_," he replied smoothly. "_I am among them, though the initiative for this change ultimately came from the younger generation of Vulcans, who are more open to foreign ideals. Their voices have grown stronger in recent years as the influence of the older, more conservative regime faded. I believe similar instances happened on Earth, have they not? The voices of the young cannot be ignored forever._"

The woman nodded and opened her mouth to ask another question, but the ambassador turned away and pointed to a man in the middle of the crowd.

"_Were all the exchange partners you chose teachers? Don't you think that's stealing from our youth?_"

Soval raised an eyebrow. "_Only 30 of the chosen educators have any teaching experience, but everyone we chose fit a certain personality profile, one we believe lends itself to an aptitude for instruction. No knowledge of our language was needed for this endeavor, only patience and enthusiasm. So no, sir, we did not steal from your youth. We would not want to deprive them of educators._"

The torrent of questions rose to a crescendo, but the ambassador called on a woman in the far left of the frame. "_Is it true you have an exchange partner?_"

A tiny smirk pushed his full lips upward, and he bowed his head in affirmation. I braced myself for his answer. "_Yes, I do have an exchange partner, and she has been most helpful in relieving me of several misconceptions. I should hope I am already improving as a representative to your people as a result of her tutelage._"

A small smile pushed my lips upward, and I relaxed into the couch. Timok must have noted my movement, as he raised an eyebrow in my direction.

"The ambassador knows what to say in response to their inquiries," he assured me. "He has faced more difficult questions than this."

I stared at the screen as another reporter asked for details on the medical research we'd be getting. "Have you ever seen him this...affable before?" I muttered. The ambassador expounded upon a few notable technologies, but quickly moved on to another question.

"Affable, Genevieve?"

"I've watched these press conferences before, you know. I've seen what kind of face he puts on for them. He doesn't look like a grumpy old coot today."

The old man could not hide his smirk. "Yes, it seems he is in a much more agreeable mood today. That was probably your doing."

I stared at him, and he looked at me with what looked like a smug expression. "Yes, Genevieve, you heard me right. Did you have an especially pleasant morning?"

I couldn't help but frown. "Well, yeah, it's a beautiful day outside. I got up early, had a good run, drank some coffee...I got a lot of work done on my thesis..."

"And you spent the day in your quarters? Or in your room?"

"I work at the kitchen table," I replied, still bemused as to what he was getting at.

"And the ambassador was there?"

I blinked. "Yeah, he didn't go into his office until after lunch."

Timok's smirk was outright as he leaned back into the couch, his gaze drifting back to the comm. Soval was wrapping up the questions, and I turned my attention back to the press conference.

"_Thank you all for your cooperation, and I hope you have a pleasant afternoon. Good day._"

He looked into the camera one last time, a tiny little smile playing over his lips, and my expression relaxed as the screen cut to the Vulcan logo again, and then to black.

My companion switched off the comm and drained his tea, and I followed suit. So it hadn't been a nightmare after all; they didn't even make a fuss about me being female. That was encouraging, though I was sure the paparazzi wouldn't be so forgiving. It was only a matter of time before another article appeared in the tabloids.

I stood and stretched. I hadn't anticipated the press conference to be so brief, but the ambassador had managed to relay a lot of information in a short amount of time. The fact that Vulcan language studies would be extended to the high school level intrigued me the most, and I couldn't help but wonder if my alma mater would be on the list of schools apparently receiving a new teacher.

And yet, as I set my teacup in Timok's sink and sat back down on the couch, I couldn't help but think that I didn't have all the answers yet, that there was still something missing from the picture. But that was just a hunch. Maybe it _was_ time to set aside our differences and get to know each other better. My crush from hell reared its ugly head and perked in interest (interpreting my thought in a very different light), but I smacked it back down into the depths where it belonged and turned as I heard the door buzzer.


	11. Soup and Gossip

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. **_

_**A/N: The mite battle is still ongoing, and my brother gave me a stomach virus for his birthday. How thoughtful of him.**_

Timok hurried to answer the door; it was probably an aide or some such person here to give a report on the feedback regarding Soval's press conference. However, to my surprise, Soval himself was in the doorway, and his aides were not at his side. Granted, they had not contributed to the press conference in any way, but they always accompanied him most places, and I had spied them lurking in the edges of the frame when the camera panned to a wide shot. They must have returned to their duties or to their quarters.

The ambassador's bright brown eyes fell on me, and I offered him an enthusiastic grin.

"You did very good," I said warmly, nodding to the comm. "Though I guess I've been falling behind on my end of this exchange. I haven't taught you anything. And I certainly wasn't told to concentrate on th significance of emotions."

The door closed behind him as he advanced into the room, and he took a seat beside me. "Had you gone to Vulcan, you would have been told. As for your...performance so far, you have taught me more than you realize. I do not always need an overt lesson to learn more about humanity." He paused, a tiny smile fighting to lift his lips upward. "I am pleased you approve of my delivery."

I decided to wait until later to press the issue of why I hadn't been told about my new responsibilities as his exchange partner. I didn't want to bring that up in front of Timok in case it devolved into an argument.

"That dry little quip of yours about dinner was a nice touch," I replied, and I leaned back into the couch, my hip digging into the couch cushion as I turned to him. He mirrored me, shifting his body to face me. "I was just telling Timok that you've never looked so affable in a press conference before."

"Indeed?" he asked, his voice deepening. "You believed I looked affable?"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Considering I am an ambassador to your planet, and looking approachable during public appearances facilitates better relations between your people and mine, I would say it is good that I was more affable this time."

I smirked and looked around for my companion, and he had returned to the sink, washing our teacups.

"Timok, you should let me do that," I said, jumping up to help him. He turned around and held up his hand.

"You were speaking to the ambassador," he countered. "Sit and talk to him. I am not an invalid yet, and as long as I can maintain my own household, by Surak, I will wash my own teacups. And besides, I don't believe Soval would appreciate me taking you from his side."

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes even as a smile broke over my face. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"He means," Soval started, and I turned to face him, "that I would be most displeased to have our conversation interrupted for something as mundane as washing dishes." He gestured to my seat. "Sit, Genevieve, and do not concern yourself with domestic duties. That is not what you're here for."

"No, apparently I'm here to help you," I replied, obeying his command to sit. I dared a glance back at Timok, but the old man had his back turned to us, seemingly ignoring our conversation.

"Yes, that is why you are here." He watched his fellow Vulcan work over my shoulder. "This weather...it agrees with you?"

"Yeah," I said, frowning at him. "Why?"

"I had a habit of walking in the city after hours, but with my recent workload, I haven't been able to continue. I'd like to take it up again...and I'd like you to go with me, if you will. Perhaps we could even go to dinner."

I smiled. "That sounds lovely. But are you sure it's wise right after a press conference?"

"I've never left the Consulate after a press conference," he admitted, raising an eyebrow. "But I see no danger. The paparazzi will never think to look for us. Timok, forgive me, but I believe Ms. Forrest and I should change if we are going out."

He stood and offered me his hand, and I stared at it, bemused. I knew Vulcans didn't shake hands, and I wondered for a moment if that was entirely true. Or perhaps Soval wasn't just affable on camera. My heart lept in a wild whirlwind of hope at the thought, but I squashed the thought before it could fully form in my brain.

I looked up at him, catching his warm gaze from under my lashes, and then I gripped his wrist and let him pull me to my feet. "Thank you," I said with a gentle smile. And then I turned to the elder Vulcan. "Thanks for the tea, and the company. It's always a pleasure."

Timok's lips twitched upward in a tiny shadow of a smile, and for a moment I thought he winked at me. "Go on, Genevieve. The ambassador could use an evening with a lovely young woman. I am too old for such things."

"Nonsense," I countered, crossing my arms over my chest in mock indignation. "I should hope I am never too old to be deprived of your wisdom, honored elder." Soval sometimes referred to the senior aide in this way, and I rather liked the honorific. "But in any case, I have a date with Mr. Affable over here, so I must take my leave of you. I hope you have a wonderful evening."

"And you, Ms. Forrest," he said in reply. "Good day, Osu."

"Good day, Timok," the ambassador echoed, his voice deepening, and he gestured for me to follow him out the door.

We got to the turbolift before he spoke again. "Mr. Affable?"

I raised my eyebrow at him. "Would you prefer Ambassador Pointy?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Certainly, you may have it," I quipped, and he raised his eyebrow back at me. "That's Archer's nickname for you. Jonathan, not Henry. I think Henry Archer respected you far too much to make up such a stupid pet name for you."

"He was a good man," Soval said softly, and I nodded. I had heard plenty of stories of the brilliant engineer from my father, almost all of them praise, and I knew for a fact Soval had personally met Henry Archer on several occasions to offer his people's view on his work. "His son..."

He trailed off. "Yeah," I agreed to his silent statement. "Ambassador Pointy..." I muttered under my breath, and then I started laughing against my better judgment.

"You find that amusing?" he said, almost looking offended.

"No, it's just so stupid!" I bit my lip, trying to get a hold of myself. "It's like he came up with that name when he was five years old, and I can't believe it stuck. If you're going to make a disparaging nickname for someone, you might as well make it clever. There's just nothing..." I was overcome with another fit of the giggles before I could finish my sentence, and I bit my lip even harder.

The turbolift doors opened, and I managed to keep my laughter contained until the door to our shared quarters closed, and then I had to quickly retreat to my room before I dissolved into a full laughing fit in front of the ambassador.

"What is so amusing?" he asked as I hurried for the sanctuary of my room, but I shook my head at him as a grin spread across my face, and I snapped the door closed behind me.

I face-planted into my pillow and shook with laughter, slowly forcing myself to calm down as I made a mental catalog of everything I had to do to get ready for dinner. My legs had sprouted another crop of hair follicles that I would sacrifice to my razor (and pray I didn't cut myself in the process), and maybe a quick shower wouldn't hurt, just to freshen up. I had lounged around all day in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and my hair was in need of washing. Although I missed the feeling of cleanliness a water shower gave me, sonics were more energy efficient, and I didn't have to dry my hair after cleaning it with the cleanser Soval provided for me. I had found it in the shower my first morning here, as the letter sent to me by Earth's government included an unusual order: no perfumes, and no toiletries but a toothbrush and toothpaste. Everything else, including hair products, would be provided for me, since Vulcans were very sensitive to artificial scents; apparently it made their noses hurt.

As I braided my freshly washed hair thirty minutes later, I heard Soval knock at my door.

"Genevieve?"

"You can come in," I replied. "I'm dressed."

I didn't even hear him enter, but I saw him in the edge of the mirror as he came to my side. "Almost ready," I muttered, mostly to myself, twisting the three strands of hair together one more time before securing the braid and smoothing the end. "Let me get my shoes and jacket on."

I pulled some flats from a crate on the floor of my closet and slipped them on my feet.

"We can walk first, or we can dine first. In what order would you prefer we proceed?" he asked.

My stomach grumbled, essentially answering his question. "I think food first."

I looked up in time to see his smirk, and my gaze trickled downward over his robes. He had chosen jade green robes embroidered with golden leaves and vines, with an ochre orange robe underneath and brown robes over the entire ensemble.

"You almost look festive," I said with a smile, and, hardly believing my daring, I reached out and smoothed his left sleeve. "Those are good colors on you, especially that jade green."

I spied an emerald flush color the tips of his ears, and he ran an appraising eye over my outfit. "And you look very agreeable in those colors."

I glanced down at my dark denim pants and dull orange peasant blouse and shrugged. "Thank you, ambassador. Now...do you have a destination in mind for our walk or shall we just wander?" I picked up my jacket from the bed and shrugged it on as we left my room, our steps silent as we padded across the insulated floor.

He led me from our quarters and pressed the button for the turbolift. "I do not have a specific route planned."

"How long have you been walking around Sausalito?"

"Over a decade," he replied, gesturing for me to enter the turbolift first.

"So you've explored most of the city or just this area?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I have mostly restricted my walks to this area, but I have ventured beyond to other areas of the city."

I had lived my entire life in San Francisco, and I knew a few streets around Berkeley University quite well, but my only experience with Sausalito was down by the Bay, and the Fort Baker neighborhood (or at least what had been Fort Baker; its official designation now was Starfleet Command, but a few older people still called it by its previous name). And I relayed all of this to Soval, not knowing what my exact point was; but he seemed interested enough, and perhaps amiable to the idea that he could introduce me to places on my homeworld that I didn't know existed, such as the restaurant where he was taking me to dinner.

"This establishment only serves vegetarian and vegan food," he explained as we exited the front courtyard and stepped out onto the street. "I hope that does not bother you. I realize that most humans eat meat on a regular basis, and if you would prefer a different establishment, name it and we will go."

"No, vegan is fine," I said. "Some restaurants don't feel a particular need to cater to the vegetarian crowd, and they wouldn't have many options for you to choose from. I'm not under any religious or cultural restrictions, and it's not as if I'd be eating anything more unusual than what you serve me on a daily basis."

I paused, a thought coming to mind as I slipped my hand into my pocket to touch my credit chip. I didn't want to bring it up, but I decided that communication and honesty were ultimately the best course of action.

"And if you're paying for dinner," I stated, keeping my voice casual and light, "then it's your choice anyway. But if you're not paying, I still wouldn't want your options to be restricted to one page of the menu or less."

He gave me an odd look, and for a moment I thought I had stunned him into silence. "You assume I will not pay for dinner?" He said it as if I had mildly offended him. "I invited you out, and furthermore...although your government does pay you a small stipend each month, I understand it has been cut considerably now that you reside with me and the Consulate provides for most of your needs. It would be...ungracious of me to ask you to pay for your meal."

"I just wanted to be sure we're on the same page, ambassador."

The next minute or so passed in silence before he spoke again. "Besides...what sort of gentleman would let a lady pay for a meal?"

I smirked at that and forced myself to look at him, and he raised an eyebrow at me. "The jury's still out on that one," I said with a sigh. "Gender dynamics can be complicated, and sometimes splitting the bill is a good thing."

"Not tonight," he pressed. "I insist."

I smiled and shrugged in agreement. "So...you've eaten at this place before?"

"Yes, multiple times. Sorak has often accompanied me, and on occasion Tos will join us. The owners of the establishment are very discreet, if that is something that concerns you."

"Well...I don't want to be bothered, especially if I'm trying to have a conversation with you, but the price of playing companion to a famous diplomat is dealing with the press."

His eyes narrowed. "Playing companion?"

"So to speak."

Soval shook his head and sighed. "You are not playing at anything, Genevieve, you _are_ my dinner companion for the evening. Does that bother you?"

"If it bothered me that much, I would have never accepted your invitation," I replied. He nodded in satisfaction, and I noticed the streets had become much more crowded as we walked along. I drew closer to him, ignoring the strange looks we received as we strolled down the sidewalk.

The restaurant he had chosen was only about fifteen minutes walking distance from the Consulate, and it wasn't especially busy when we slipped inside, or at least not busy enough that we had to wait for a table. The hostess attended to us immediately, addressing the ambassador as if they had met several times before.

"The usual table, ambassador?" she asked, and Soval nodded.

The usual table was conveniently hidden from the front windows, a small, cozy booth behind a stone wall. A lamp hung over our table from the beam over our heads, and as the top of the wall beside us was only a few feet higher than the backs of the booth seats, tiny tendrils of living ivy nearly touched the condiment caddy.

Our waiter approached us and nodded respectfully to the ambassador (it was obvious to me now that the management of this place probably strove to stay on good terms with him), then smiled at me.

"Good evening. My name is Aiden and I'll be your waiter for this evening. What can I get for you to drink?" He stared straight at me.

"Water, please," I replied. "Thank you."

Soval immediately followed my order with his own. "Water for me as well, and some spiced mandarin white tea, two teacups."

He nodded and quickly retreated to deliver our order, though if I wasn't mistaken, Aiden threw me a sympathetic glance over his shoulder as he returned to the kitchen to get our drinks.

"Do you have any recommendations? Favorites?" I said lightly as I flipped open the menu.

"Personally, I favor the lentil soup with vegan bread," he answered calmly, examining his menu with furrowed brows. "But the chickpea loaf and mashed sweet potatoes is very filling, if you have the appetite for it."

"The lentil soup sounds good, but so does the potato soup." I smirked. "Tis the season."

He raised an eyebrow.

"It's cold outside," I explained. "Surely you've noticed how menus change with the seasons, especially at places like this. Summer and spring bring lighter dishes like salads and grilled vegetables, what have you, and in the colder months, lots of soups and stews and hot dishes are served. I think I'll go with the potato soup and vegan bread."

Soval nodded and set aside his menu, and Aiden came back with a tray of drinks. The ambassador quietly thanked the young man and poured himself some tea as the waiter whipped out his PADD to take our order.

"I will have the lentil soup and the vegan bread," my companion relayed in a firm, authoritative tone. "And potato soup and vegan bread for the lady."

"Is there anything else I can interest you in today?" Aiden asked, directing his question to me. I shook my head.

"Then that'll be about ten minutes on your order. Some fresh loaves of bread should be coming out of the oven any minute now. If you need anything else, just ask."

I glanced around the restaurant, my curious eyes lingering on the patrons more than the décor, although the interior design of the place was rather cozy. I saw a middle-aged couple dressed in business casual clothing two tables away from us and across the way, the two of them holding hands across the table. I smiled and let my gaze wander further away, and behind the couple was a table of businessmen. A man in his thirties met my gaze and stared rather pointedly at me, not even breaking his gaze when he took a sip of his wine. I looked away, though I still felt his gaze on my skin.

On the other side of the couple were four women my age, celebrating a birthday by the sound of their conversation. They were absorbed in their festivities and didn't immediately notice my staring, and I looked away before one of them caught my gaze.

Soval looked pensive as I looked back to him, and he raised both eyebrows.

"May I know your thoughts, Genevieve?" he asked quietly. "Are you concerned about the other patrons?"

"Just looking around to see what kind of people are dining with us," I said. "And looking around at the décor. It's very nice...I can see why you come here so often."

"Not that often." He folded his hands in front of him on the table, his forefingers extended and touching. I had seen him make the gesture before, and Timok told me it was a meditative pose. I met the ambassador's gaze; he looked as if he wanted to say something, and I waited for him to speak.

"I would have thought you would have more questions for me," he said slowly.

"I do!" I said with an enthusiastic nod, leaning forward into the table. "I just haven't had time to fully process what I want to say."

"And when will you have processed what you want to say?"

I shrugged. "Probably by the time our food gets here." I glanced over at the businessmen, but the man who had stared at me earlier was engaged in conversation with his table. I sighed and turned my eyes back to Soval.

"Why only...what was it, twenty-five teachers in the entire group? You said they'd be paid well...don't you think actual teachers would have been on board with an all-expenses paid trip to Vulcan?"

I could have sworn I saw a smirk on his lips, and I noticed something in the soft light of the hanging lanterns. Soval kept his face clean shaven and I had never seen him with any scruff, but a light brush of five o'clock shadow darkened his upper lip, and for several seconds I tried to imagine what he would look like with a little stubble on his face. In doing so, I completely missed his answer to my question.

"I am so sorry," I said, and I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Could you repeat that?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Am I boring you?" he asked, and I got the hint that he was teasing me.

"Lost in thought," I replied, my gaze flicking back down to his upper lip against my will. He raised both eyebrows, looking rather bemused.

"I said teaching experience was only one factor in choosing the candidates for this exchange. Other things like personality and health were more important to us than past experience. The right candidates can be trained to teach. Not every teacher would be agreeable or able to handle a class on my homeworld."

"Oh," I said. I looked down at my lap, then back up at him. "I can see where you're coming from on that."

His expression softened, and he bowed his head. "I am pleased you agree with our reasoning."

Our conversation paused for a moment as Aiden set our food in front of us, and I thanked him as he promised to come back and refill the ambassador's water glass. I took a long pull from my own glass and then tucked into my soup.

"How's yours?" I said after a few bites. Soval nodded in apparent enjoyment of his lentil soup.

"It is the same as every other time I've eaten it. It is quite palatable." He took another bite, then sipped his tea. "And yours?"

"This is better than I expected," I replied.

We paused again as Aiden filled our water glasses, but once he was out of sight, I asked another less pressing question.

"Do Vulcans grow facial hair?"

He stopped eating and looked up at me, his eyes bright as a smirk lifted his full lips.

"I mean, I know you're physically able to...right?"

"Yes." His voice was soft and deep, and I ignored the shiver that crept down my spine at his relentless gaze.

"That would explain the five o'clock shadow."

"Five o'clock shadow?" he repeated, seemingly confused.

I rubbed my upper lip, silently inviting him to do the same, and he copied my movements; his eyes brightening in comprehension.

"Why is it called five o'clock shadow?"

"You shave the stubble off your face in the morning, but by five o'clock in the evening, it's back on your face."

"Ah," he said, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, perhaps checking for the soft prickle of regrowing facial hair.

"So do Vulcans often grow beards?"

He shook his head. "It is not very popular, though many Vulcans did grow facial hair in the time before the Awakening. There are many paintings and carvings of bearded men in our history archives. Even a few of the early logic masters had beards, though most of my people view facial hair as an inconvenience. I have only seen one Vulcan in my lifetime who had a beard, one of my professors at the military academy. He was famous for it, or shall I say infamous."

"Wait a minute," I said, holding up my hand. "You were in the military?"

He nodded. "I was a soldier in my youth, but I realized my talents lay in diplomacy."

"What kind of work did you do in the military?"

"I was a common footsoldier, and only made sublieutenant before leaving the service to learn the art of negotiation," he replied.

I smiled and saluted him, straightening my posture and raising my chin. "Well, I know you didn't serve Earth as a soldier, but I'm sure Vulcan appreciated your service."

"I come to serve." His voice was low, almost a purr, and I put my hand down in a sudden fit of embarrassment. I couldn't even think of why I had done something so silly, but he didn't seem to mind. I dug into my soup and ignored the waiter as he came around once again to refill our water glasses. He seemed to be coming to our table a lot, and maybe it was just a slow night. Or perhaps the management was eager to keep the ambassador happy with attentive service.

"So...what was so infamous about this college professor?"

"Other than sporting facial hair, he had...controversial ideals, ones I shared, and still do. He never expressed them outright, but from a few of his lectures, it was obvious that he followed an unorthodox philosophy of life."

I frowned. "Where is he now?"

Soval sighed and shook his head as he put a small pat of butter on his vegan bread. "I do not know. If he has not retired or been dismissed from the military academy, then he is probably still teaching there. He was only thirty years my senior when I was his pupil."

"And what were his unorthodox views that made him so infamous?"

Even I knew he wasn't going to answer me, but his response still surprised me. "I cannot tell you at this time, but perhaps one day...you will understand."

I looked down at my soup and stirred it absentmindedly, stealing one last glance around the restaurant to see who was still here and who had left. The couple across the way looked ready to leave, though the birthday group was still going strong, ordering dessert from their waiter as they polished off a group sampler platter. The businessmen were still deep in conversation, and I wondered if they had already finished their meal and were simply lingering over drinks. The man who had stared at me threw another glance my way, and I quickly fixed my eyes back on my meal.

As I finished off my soup and started on my bread, I wondered if any other person in the vicinity had noticed my companion. The businessman seemed to be the only one who had noticed so far (I assumed that was why he was staring at me: he wondered what I was doing out with a Vulcan and probably pitied me, as he thought I was surely bored out of my mind), though I did notice a few of the birthday group casting curious glances over our way.

"Are you doing it again?" I heard his voice cut through my reverie, and I sighed.

"Yeah, just lost in thought. It does make you wonder if this will end up in the tabloids in the morning. The only reason I bring it up is because I still want to continue my running routine, and I'd rather not have to do that while being in the public eye. Maybe I should switch routes every once and a while."

"That is a reasonable precaution," he conceded. "I would not want you to be harassed."

"No, neither would I." I took a bite of my bread, then accepted the tea he offered, sipping gratefully at the still-hot liquid. "I suppose you Vulcans have avoided the illogic that is celebrity gossip."

For a moment, he looked like he was smirking. "You think too highly of my people, Genevieve. We would not publish gossip as your people have, but we do have a propensity towards it. An old habit, born of our more social nature, and one that has been difficult to quit. My staff has not managed such a lofty goal."

"Don't tell me your staff are a bunch of gossips."

"They do not say anything negative, simply discuss what information they have heard."

I frowned. "What kind of information?"

He did not answer, and I sighed, taking another bite of bread. Why did I even bother?


End file.
